Here There Be Dragons (Under Revision)
by Inkraven003
Summary: Her name is Emma Fletcher and that's all she knows. Helped by a creature with horns and then dumped into a city of people who need some serious hygiene pointers, Emma tries to fit into a world that feels wrong and find out who she is. Along the way, she may make some very unlikely friends, in the form of a dashing man named Hawke and his mismatched company. (T rating may change)
1. Chapter 1: Enter One Confused Girl

Ha. This story kind of took on a soul of its own. I initially wrote this because I needed something to relax with and just work on getting back into the saddle writing-wise (I've had terrible writer's block for a while now). This is un-beta-ed, but I think I caught most if not all mistakes.

Anyway, let me know what you think. I'm not all that sure where this is going, so I'm going to be enjoying the ride with you guys. Not sure how much I'll post until I see how people react to it-I'll probably post a handful of chapters and see what happens from there. (I feel like I'm holding my story ransom for reviews/favorites/follows/whatever, but I swear I'm not haha).

Let me know what you think. Critics are welcome and encouraged.

 **~Inkraven**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Enter one Confused Girl**

The first thing I did as I woke up was roll to my side and puke my guts up. Spectacular. But I guess I wasn't puking my guts out as much as I was expelling water from my lungs _so I could breathe_. I wheezed and sucked in air greedily as I tried to get oxygen back to my brain. After a few deep breaths and forcing my heart rate to go down, I could finally think better or, at least, more coherently.

I wiped my eyes so I could see better, but I wasn't quite sure what I was seeing. Um . . . a beach? If the taste of salt wasn't enough, then the fact that I could hear the sound of crashing waves behind me and feel water hitting my legs at a steady rhythm was proof enough. Which confused me beyond reason because . . .

But then something else got my heart racing. _I couldn't remember the because._ I sat up, despite my weak state, and began raking my brain for information, but all I got were bits and pieces, nothing that really fit together and nothing that really helped. It was all mostly sounds and jagged images and feelings. Like right now, I had a feeling I hadn't been near water because . . . because I hated water! That's right. So how in the world did I end up waking up on a beach?

I snarled in frustration when I realized I couldn't access that information. Not yet, anyway. Another fear hit me hard. What if I could never remember? What if everything before this moment was lost to me? I started hyperventilating, but locked down on it quick, and I realized I was doing a specific rhythm of breathing. Was I . . . was I unconsciously calming myself down? So this had to be a regular thing, for it to just kick in, right? Oh, fantastic. I had anxiety issues.

But it was helping, the breathing exercises, so I sat there and tried to think logically and reasonably—I needed to know what I still knew and what I didn't. And what I knew was shockingly little. I knew names of random objects, but for some, I wasn't able to draw up a mental picture. I knew my name was Emma Fletcher. I knew I hated water—big bodies of it terrified me. I knew I liked looking at the stars and I had a family, but not who consisted of my family. And really, that was about it. Most of what I knew helped little to nothing in my current predicament.

I struggled to my feet, sick and tired of being in one spot for what felt like eternity. I was scared but I was also incredibly frustrated—which I found made me aggressive. Something else I learned about myself—I probably had temper problems. I sighed and looked down, noting the slight curve to my tummy. And I mostly likely didn't get much exercise.

I took a look around me, to get my bearings, but nothing was familiar. I mean, I just got this sense of _wrong_ about everything around me. Nothing gave a familiar vibe, not the trees or rocks or sand. Suddenly, movement caught my eye. I turned to take a better look and sighed in relief when I saw people walking down the sand, towards my position. I waved my hands and forced my weak limbs to head their way.

"Hello! I need help! Hello?"

But as the distance between us got shorter and I could see them better, I froze. These people—men, were _massive_. Easily towering over me even at this distance and they . . . had horns. Some of them broken off and little more than stumps, but still . . . did I . . . ? I touched my head. Nope, no horns here. The word human popped into my head. I was human. As soon as I looked at the men approaching me, the term, _not human_ popped into my head. The closer they got, the more I noticed, too. They looked . . . rough. I have no other words to better describe what I was seeing. And they were covered in weapons. And my brain gave me the name for each and every weapon they carried. Spear, short sword, broadsword, and on it went. Why was I so familiar with weapons? It actually troubled me that I knew them so well.

But then I snapped to. All around, these men . . . things . . . creatures were not too friendly to look at. They had a permanent scowl on their face and they stalked towards me, never once responding to my calls. And that's when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I felt fear wash over me. I didn't think they were interested in my plight or helping, especially as one grabbed his broadsword and freed it from its harness on his back.

I started taking steps back, fear turning into terror. As I did, they barked at me a single sound. Was it a word in their language? I didn't care. I turned and fled. Which was dumb. Incredibly stupid, really, with how weak I was and how fit they looked. I heard running feet and one easily caught hold of me, grabbing my hair and jerking me back. I screamed from the pain and stumbled back until I landed on my backside.

"Please, please, please," Kept spilling out of my lips.

He smiled, actually smiled, and I froze for a moment as I spotted his incredibly sharp teeth. I screamed and started struggling like mad to get away. They were going to eat me! Why else would they have teeth like that? Why—

* * *

 _Loud raised voices. Scenery going by quickly. I just want to run away, away, away away._

I woke slowly to the sound of a crackling fire, with a head that felt like it had been split open. Maybe it had and that's when I realized the creature had clubbed me in the head with something. But . . . I was still alive. Why was I still alive? I had had a feeling so certain it was almost tangible that they meant me every harm in the world.

As I tried to get my wits back about me, I heard noise. I opened my eyes and was greeted by one of their faces. I choked back a scream and sobbed. So they were saving me for something. This one reached for me and I flinched, which made him hesitate. Which was . . . weird.

"I . . . only mean to help."

It took my brain a few tries to comprehend that he had spoken and in a language I understood, granted it was heavily accented and seemed to pain him to speak. I stared at him, dumbstruck. Granted his voice was rough and deep and terrifying, but . . .

"Your head is wounded. It must be tended to."

And just like that I was reminded of my pounding head.

I opened my mouth and found my mouth paper dry. I tried to wet my mouth, but found I had no spit to wet it with. Seeing my dilemma, the creature leaned over and returned with a wooden bowl? cup? in his hand.

"This is . . . ah, helps with pain. Drink."

He wrapped an arm around me to help me sit up and I was frozen in his grip, kind of like a paralyzed prey in a predator's grasp. He put the cup to my lips, tipping it so the liquid hit my closed mouth. I glanced at his face, but couldn't tell whether he meant harm or not, it was so impassive. Deciding I had nothing to lose at this point, I took a tentative sip of the concoction. I nearly spit it out. But he put it right back to my lips, giving me no choice but to drink.

I took one massive gulp and downed it as fast as I could so as little of it as possible hit my tongue.

Once he was satisfied, he took the cup away and set it aside as I made a gagging face.

"W-what was that?" I gasped.

He shrugged and remained silent. Oh, good. I just got poisoned by a dullard. Fantastic.

. . . boy, I was snarky.

I forced my mind to focus. The creature was now tending to my head, forcing my face to look down as he checked the back of my skull. I winced as he touched the sensitive flesh. He snorted and grabbed some, I don't know, medical supplies I guess.

"What are you going to do with me?" I ventured to ask after several minutes of tense silence and his ministrations.

He paused, then continued. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I asked, confused. What the hell was going on?

He grunted again and said nothing.

"But . . . then why did you chase me? Why did you hit me and kidnap me?" My voice was rising at the end, hysteria and panic taking hold. I forced myself to calm down.

"I did not hit you." He said vehemently. "Tal'Vashoth. They were the ones who attacked you."

"Tal . . . what? What the hell is that?" I gulped, but couldn't stop myself from asking, "Aren't you Talwhatever? You look like one."

"No!" he snarled, cowing me into silence. Apparently he was sensitive about the subject. Then he sighed and his whole demeanor changed. I glanced at him and saw his body slumped. "I am . . . I am Tal'Vashoth. But I am not one of them." He gritted through his teeth. "They are lost, no longer grey, but black. Wallowing in impurity."

He finished and started cleaning off the cloth he had been using. I was really confused now. If these Tal-people were the ones whom I had seen and had knocked me out . . . and this guy wasn't one of them, then . . .

"Wait. Wait wait wait. If you're not one of them, then . . . where are they now? Did they . . . did they hand me over to you?"

He glanced at me. "Dead." He said. I stared at him in shock. Dead? I mean, I can't say I wasn't somewhat vindicated, but . . . dead? Death? I . . . wasn't there some kind of justice system? You know, juries and judges or whatever? I gaped at the thing in front of me, my mind refusing to work. This man had . . . had killed people! He was a murderer! Would it be just as easy to turn around and kill me? Not noticing or caring for my distress, he continued. "They had aligned themselves with some slavers. They were going to take you to their employers when I came upon them."

My mind screeched to a halt. SLAVERS? As in people who dealt with SLAVES? That gave me a feeling of wrongness so strong it knocked the wind from me. Did that then mean wherever I had come from that they had no slaves? Thank God! But then I fully realized what he had said and I gaped at him anew. "You . . . saved me."

He grunted and finished cleaning up, standing and walking to a fire not too far away. This creature saved me. From a fate I wasn't too sure was better or worse than death. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had a vague notion of what slavery could entail and I shivered at the raw cruelty of those simple notions.

Suddenly overwhelmed, I burst into tears. "Thank you." I cried. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He seemed oddly uncomfortable. He shrugged and stirred something in a pot that was hanging off a trifold above the fire. Sighing, he came back to me with a vial in his hand. He gestured vaguely at my face. "You have cuts on your face."

"Oh," I sniffled.

He poured some kind of thick ointment on his fingers and proceeded to smear it on certain places on my face. I flinched but when I tried to pull away he growled. A most monstrous sound that had me freezing for the remainder of his treatment. When he was done, he observed his work and snorted in satisfaction. From a bag not too far from me, he tucked away the vial and pulled out two wooden bowls. He went to the fire and ladled out some of the soup or stew or whatever it was in the pot, into the bowls. As he did so, I studied the creature that had saved me.

From the fading sun and the flickering light of the fire, I was able to make out that he had the same greyish, metallic skin tone and snow white hair as the others. He had scars all along his body, old and silvery. Some looking like they had been quite nasty when he had sustained them. My eyes slid to his head and I was a bit surprised to find he only had one horn. When he turned to head back to me, I saw why—one was broken pretty close to the base.

He sat next to me and grunted as he handed me the bowl. I watched him as he tipped the bowl to his mouth. I turned to my own stew and found that it at least looked . . . good. Tentatively, I sipped some of it and gasped. He looked at me in alarm.

I blushed under his gaze and muttered, "Either I'm really hungry or you're an amazing cook."

I flinched as the stew burned my tongue, but gulped it down as fast as I could. There were a few pieces, meat and what looked like potato, stuck to the bowl, so I shoveled it out with my hand. When I was done, my companion extended his hand to take the bowl. As I handed it to him, I realized something.

"What's your name? You've done all of this for me and I don't even know your name." As an afterthought, I added, "My name is Emma, by the way. Or at least I think it is."

The big guy shrugged. "I have no name."

I raised my eyebrows at that. "How come?"

He looked at me and I could tell that he was annoyed. Yeesh. Then again, he didn't seem like the talkative sort. "I only had a title, but I cast that aside when I turned from the Qun."

I flinched—I could tell by the tone of his voice that _that_ little gem was a sore spot for him. Even if I had no idea what he was talking about. "But . . . if I need to get your attention . . . well, it feels rude to shout 'big guy' or 'not Tal-whatever,' you know?"

He snorted and left me once again and this time filled only my bowl and returned. I thanked

him as he gave me my bowl and set out to wash his. I sat there in silence, mulling over some thoughts. "Then . . . can I call you by whatever title you went by?"

He glared at me.

"Ooookay. I'll take that as a no. Come on, there has to be something I can call you by."

He paused in his cleaning and for a while, no one said anything. It was a bit awkward and for a minute, I thought I had done something awful. I had no idea what, but something.

"Maraas. You may call me Maraas."

It was an odd name, but I think it was mostly because it was from his language—at least the way he said it made it sound like it wasn't English. English! That was the name of the language I was speaking.

"What does it mean?"

"It means I am nothing, that I am alone."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. He hadn't said it with any hint of irony or that he was joking—just a simple state of fact. I quickly closed my mouth and suddenly lost my appetite. "No. I won't . . . I can't . . . that's too sad."

He scowled at me . . . or maybe that was his neutral face. "It is the path I have chosen, and so I shall be called."

He grabbed the bowl from me and pushed against my shoulders. "Rest. Tomorrow you will be among your people."

"What—"

"Parshaara!" He snarled. I clamped my mouth shut. "Sleep," he commanded.

I rolled to my side and attempted to get comfortable. I could hear him milling about the camp. Doing what, I had no idea. Like the floodgates had been opened, everything that had happened to me that day swept my mind. Waking up confused and weak, being attacked by giants apparently bent on selling me to a slaver and then being saved by one of their kind and nursed . . . all the while still having no idea what the hell was going on or how I had gotten here. I was so lost, it was laughable, except it wasn't and with a little bit of horror, I realized I was crying again. I refused to bawl like I had before and instead tried to keep it as contained as I could.

What made it worse, if I was understanding his words right, Maraas was going to dump me off somewhere 'with my own kind.' But what he didn't understand was that I wasn't so sure I was anywhere near people who were 'my own kind.' With spiraling thoughts, I fell into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Maraas

_Ugh. The formatting is confusing me so I apologize for when the story shifts to a different time/scene and it seems jarring. If anyone has pointers, PLEASE let me know. I'e tried spacing and I've tried inserting random characters to signify a scene change and they won't save for some reason. Weird. So for right now I'm using line breaks. Hopefully that won't be too awful._

 _Anyway. I kinda fell in love with Maraas. He's a fun little enigma. He was supposed to be a rather minor character but . . . the story has a mind of its own and I'm already enraptured with his back story. May even be an offshoot of some kind with him as the lead man._

 _And, as always, reviews are always appreciated, particularly critiques._

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Enter Maraas**

 _Wet. Everything was so wet. Muffled sounds surrounded me, desperate sounds. But no matter where I looked, I saw nothing but blurry images. Like a glitch, the scene would randomly flicker to something else, to a land with a green tinged sky and I nearly screamed at the face looking at me. Then it jerked back to the watery nothingness. Without warning, I couldn't breathe. I fought and flailed, my desperate struggles and screams joining the other muffled—_

"Wake!"

I started and froze in a temporary paralysis as I tried to scramble together why I was waking up on sand and under open skies and why my head felt like I had rammed it into a wall and why a grey-skinned giant was towering over me. I blinked rapidly as I sat up and rubbed my head, everything coming back to me.

Still blurry from sleep, I almost spilled the bowl that was shoved in my hands.

"Eat. It is one and a half suns before we will reach the human settlement and we must leave now."

I apparently wasn't a morning person as I just kind of mechanically ate what he gave me—I had no idea what as I was too sleepy to care—and sluggishly helped him pack up camp.

As he slung his small bundle over his shoulders, he narrowed his eyes at me. I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Stay close to me, human. Many Tal-Vashoth and scum call this place their home."

That woke me up a little as images of grey face laughing evilly came to mind. He huffed, then, after a moment's thought, grabbed the knife sheathed across his chest. He extended it to me, blade in his hand and handle to me.

"Take this. Use it should a creature get past me."

I gulped and hesitantly grasped the leather handle, a heavy weight suddenly dropping in my gut. I must have looked truly terrified because his face softened a small degree.

"You are my charge, little one. That is a last resort."

He headed out and stuck as close to him as I dared. But I couldn't help taking a peek at my surroundings, despite the tense air. I knew I wasn't fond of big bodies of water, but I couldn't deny that the ocean to my right was damn gorgeous nor that the land it lapped against was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Sometimes the land slopped gracefully to meet water and other times dropped to a jagged cliff that was black and stomach dropping.

"M-Maraas?"

He glanced back at me and grunted.

"Where . . . are we?"

"By your tongue, it is the Wounded Coast."

I stopped for a moment then caught up with Maraas. Wounded Coast, huh? I almost laughed. How ironic.

* * *

As the day wore on, I couldn't deny how much I was starting to hate the Wounded Coast. With a freaking passion. As the sun rose, so did the temperature and freaking humidity. I felt like I was breathing water, it was so thick. And, apparently, I didn't walk as much or at such a brutal pace as Maraas was setting.

"W-wait up, Mar-Maraas." I huffed.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and I bet I made quite a sight—red faced, huffing and puffing as I staggered an increasing amount of feet behind him. He sighed steered off the path, finding a bit of ground that was covered in shade. He gestured for me to sit and I did, gratefully. He extended his waterskin to me and I drank greedily. He snarled and yanked it away and I glared at him.

"Drink too much and we will have none left for the rest of our travels."

I groaned and slumped to my side. Trying to take my mind off of my aching feet and pained sides, I studied Maraas, comparing him to me. He really was a giant, standing at maybe seven foot tall if not more. And he was all rippling muscle and I wondered what kind of life would lead to sp much power. I looked at his clothes too. He wore a leather vest and a strap of some sort that crossed his chest and held his knives. Around his midsection, overlapping his trousers, was a sash of vibrant red and it seemed in better repair than everything else. As for his pants, they were loose, almost puffy and were stuffed into some boots that had definitely seen better days. Overall, his clothes were worn looking, old, and of dulling colors.

For some reason, the adjectives 'poor' and 'old' popped into my head. I wondered why.

I found myself fingering my shirt and I looked down. My clothing was incredibly different from his. I immediately knew it to be called a T-Shirt. The color was a dark blue and had a design on it that meant nothing to me. My hand slid to the thick, rough feel of my pants. Jeans. They were jeans. And then there were my shoes. Sneakers. And everything looked pretty new, at least in comparison to Maraas's clothes. You know, with the exception of being drenched in salt water, sand, and sweat.

I groaned and sat back up. Observing was nice and all, but since I knew practically nothing, it didn't help me out much. I curled my arms around my knees and looked up at Maraas. He was watching our surroundings very intently, his face etched in a permanent scowl. My eyes were drawn in by his broken horn. Feeling like I was stepping into dangerous territory, I asked, "What happened to your horn?"

I shivered at the glower he tossed my way. "Rest is over. Let's move out."

Oookie-dokie. That topic was off limits. I stood, biting back the moan as my feet protested. A whole day of this? Shoot me. Huh . . . weird phrase. Eyeing me, Maraas snorted. "At this pace, it will be twice the time to reach the settlement."

Suddenly irritated, I opened my mouth to retort only to be interrupted by someone chuckling. I whirled around so fast I almost fell and it was only Maraas's hand that steadied me. I glanced at him, a rumble from his chest pouring out of his mouth. Was he . . . growling? Uh-oh. I finally turned my attention to whoever was approaching us. Six men, heavily armed and looking the worse for wear. And the feeling I got from them was similar to those other horned giants from when I first woke up.

I flinched as my head throbbed in pain at the memory.

"Where'd you find such a catch, Tal-Vashoth?"

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, I stepped back until I was behind my current caretaker. I glanced at Maraas, but he was focused on the group of men and I decided it was probably best to focus on them too. As I watched them, I felt the oddly comforting feel of the steel knife stuffed in the waistband of my jeans.

"Be on your way, filth." Maraas snarled.

The one who had spoken, the one with a scruffy and unkempt beard, smiled and raised his hands in a mock surrender. "Whoa there, big guy. Just makin' friendly conversation." He then leered at me. "Though, she is easy on the eyes. I bet she'd fetch a pretty bit of coin." Fear was quickly being eaten up by a burning sensation which I quickly identified as anger. I glared at him and he chuckled. "Though I must say, she is dressed in an odd manner. But I will not deny it accentuates her . . . appeal well."

Snarling, I lunged forward, but Maraas pushed me back, giving me a warning look.

They laughed.

"The fire!" Beardo laughed. "No matter. You'll learn your place soon enough."

"Come here and say that to my face, you son of a bitch." I snarled.

Maraas snarled and gripped my arm, tight. Beardo grinned and gestured for his men to continue walking. He stayed behind, his eyes never leaving me. "I don't know where you found this one, Tal-Vashoth, but I'd dare say you should keep her. With such spirit, she would guarantee passion in your bed for some time." His eyes slid to stoic Maraas. "Or I'd be more than happy to pay for her. I do love to put such wild women in their place."

I lost it. I'm not entirely sure how I broke free of Maraas, but I lunged at the man and felt _such_ satisfaction as my nails dug into the skin of his face and raked a bloody trail from temple to chin. He yowled and flung himself back but recovered quickly. There were now four deep furrows from my nails that would definitely scar, bleeding and getting into his left eye. Snarling, he unsheathed his sword in a heartbeat and was ready to lop off my head when Maraas's own sword tip was at his throat, his growling much louder.

As for myself, I was frozen. I was still furious, but it struck me that I had no idea how to defend myself or use the knife still tucked away in my waistband. It didn't take a genius to tell me that I'd made a mistake, one that could have easily cost me my life had Maraas not been quick in my defense. Starting to shake as the realization I could have died set in, I looked at Maraas. His gaze was locked with Beardo.

"Tell your men to sheath their weapons or your head will leave your body." Maraas snarled.

Startled, I turned to find some of his men had been sneaking up behind us, weapons drawn. I belatedly realized they had meant to attack us all along, had been sneaking up on us from behind. They now stood, frozen. Baerdo sneered but raised his hand in an unknown gesture and his men sheathed their weapons. Maraas scowled and pressed the tip of his blade further into the man's throat.

"All of them."

The man looked ready to explode, but as soon as the blade was pressed harder against his skin and blood started running down the blade, he snarled, "Sheathe your Maker-damned weapons!"

"You will leave, all of you. If I see you again, I will not hesitate to kill you all." I yelped as Maraas grabbed me by the arm and jerked me to his side. I scratched at his hold—it hurt! "She is mine and you will not attempt to take what is mine. Are we clear?"

Beardo gave a tight nod, glaring daggers. In a move so swift, I barely registered it, Maraas sheathed his sword on his back. "Leave!" He barked.

Holding his neck, Beardo went to his men, some appearing seemingly out of nowhere to join the rest and off they went. But the look that he and his group tossed back at us didn't promise anything good. I shivered as I was reminded yet again that this place was dangerous. But I quickly was drawn back to Maraas's tight hold on my arm. "You're hurting me!" I gasped, trying to pry his hand off.

With obvious disgust, he released me with a little shove. Unprepared, I tripped and landed on my butt. I rubbed my sore bicep as Maraas glared at me. "Foolish! Reckless!" He spat.

I was cowed by his admonishments, but I suddenly remembered what he said. Scowling, I quickly got to my feet. "What was all that about being yours! I am not yours! I'll fight anyone who says I'm anyone's but myself!" And then another realization, a rather unsettling one at that. "And they acted as if they knew you personally . . . as if you . . . as if you held people against their will before." Shaking, I asked, "Did you . . . did you use to sell people to slavers, Maraas?"

He was silent a moment, his golden eyes studying me. "Yes."

And that's all he said. No explanation nor buts or anything. I took a step back, realizing I had put so much trust in a stranger I knew nothing about in a land I didn't know. I hugged myself, forcing myself not to cry.

"Then w-why did-did you save me fr-from the . . . the others? Was your kindness a l-lie?"

His hands clenched and his lip raised in a snarl. And then he sighed, the tension easing out of his body somewhat. "I am done with that life." He said softly and in such a way, I found myself taking back that step I had taken away from him. "There is no joy, no honor in it."

"Then . . . Maraas, why? Why would you do that to people?"

He shrugged, as if he hadn't thought of it before. "I needed money and there are few paths available to Tal-Vashoth. Or so I foolishly thought." And then he shook himself, as if to rid himself of our conversation. "Come. We must continue if we ever hope to reach Kirkwall."

"How can I trust you not to take me somewhere else?" I whispered.

"Do what pleases you." He said shortly. "Follow me, if you chose. Or stay here and chose to fall prey to any manner of predator that roams this cursed place."

Unbidden, I thought of the first giants I met and then, most recently, the group of men—bandits, I now realized—and shivered. At least I knew Maraas would protect and feed me. I had no guarantee otherwise. Nodding, I fell in step behind him and once again, choked by my sobs.

* * *

"You said you're taking me to Kirkwall."

He glanced at me. I was sitting in a tight ball on a bit of flat rock, watching him start a fire. He was using a bit of stone and a tool I had no name for. I wondered idly what it was called.

"Yes."

"What's it like?"

He shrugged and went back to his work. "A greater cesspool there never was." Fantastic, I thought miserably.

"So you're just going to dump me off there?"

He said nothing as he finally got a spark onto his tender, blowing it tenderly until a small flame was going. He added larger stickers until he had a steady fire going. "I do not belong there. You do." He said simply.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you saying I'm a piece of shit?" I asked dryly.

I was almost blown away when a small smile tugged at his lips. "It is a human settlement. Your people." He eyed me. "You will be safer there than in the wilds."

I grumbled but knew he was only stating a fact I was more than aware of. I had no idea how to use the knife he had given me other than that the pointy end went inside whatever I was aiming at. I had no idea how to start a fire or what was edible. I'd die in a day if I didn't fall prey to some predator before that. Silence reigned between us for a long time. He set up his little tripod and pot and began making something for us to eat. After that was done and we were simply waiting for it to finish cooking, he pulled out his sword—a claymore—and began sharpening and cleaning it. It was massive, that sword, and I marveled that he had been able to hold it and its weight in one hand in our previous encounter.

"Maraas?"

He grunted.

"Will you tell me why you're not a slaver anymore?"

"No."

"Then, will you tell me what you are? I feel like Tal-Vashoth is more . . . a title than, you know, _what_ you are."

He snorted. "It is the same. A title is derived from the self and the self is carved from the title."

"Okay, but . . . you're not _human_ so what are you?"

Disgusted, he set his claymore aside. "What would you have me say?" He snarled. "I am no longer Qunari but neither do I adhere to the Tal-Vashoth way. I have no people and no path. I am lost."

I hadn't meant to set him off but . . . "But I don't know what those _are_. What's a Qunari? What are Tal-Vashoth? These titles or names or whatever mean nothing to me."

That seemed to give him pause. "How is it you do not know the word Qunari?"

I shrugged helplessly, hugging my knees tighter to my chest. "I don't know much, really. I . . . I only know who I am and some basic stuff. And some random details. Everything else . . . I've no memory of."

His expression softened a bit. "Your head injury must be more severe than I had judged."

I didn't correct him that I hadn't been able to remember anything before that. He was softening and looked more amicable. If sympathy or pity got me that, I'd ride with it. Right now, I needed information. It was as vital to me as water and food. "So? Care to enlighten me?"

I startled when he barked and then continued barking. And then I realized. Oh . . . Oh, he's laughing. I was a bit shocked. "How the Tamassrans would every bas say such words." I looked at him in confusion. Bas? Tamassrans? He shook his head, going to the fire with his wooden bowls and filling them. He brought me my bowl and sat down a few feet from me. "I am no Tamassran, but I can tell you that Qunari are those who follow the Qun."

"The Qun?"

He nodded, but didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

"Is it a religion?"

He shrugged. "A religion. A way of life. It is both these things and more. It gives purpose and a oneness for all." He stared at his bowl, suddenly somber and I remembered he had left the Qun.

"But you left it?" I prompted.

"Yes."

"But you won't tell me why, will you?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Okay, then . . . will you tell me what a Tal-Vashoth is?"

"By your tongue, it means 'True Grey Ones.' They have left the path of the Qun and turned to lawlessness. Criminals who wallow and find pleasure in filth."

I tapped my finger on the rim of my almost empty bowl. "You called yourself Tal-Vashoth." I said slowly, then shook my head. "I disagree. I mean, you may have once been a . . . a criminal. I mean, you were a slaver once. But . . . I don't think you're such a bad person. I mean, you're helping me."

His eyes locked with mine and though I wanted to look away, I held his gaze. "It is not for you to say. You do not know me, do not know what lurks in my asala. You know nothing."

He yanked the bowl from my hands and walked away and I found I was at a loss for words. He was right, though. My life was in the hands of a man who unabashedly called himself a criminal, a man who used to kidnap people and sell them.

But I was so emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted, I couldn't deign to give it much thought. However, I did wonder if I would ever feel safe ever again.


	3. Chapter 3: Welcome to the City of Chains

_I just realized I forgot to add it to my before chapters, but everything but my OCs and my Storyline belong to Bioware and I in no way take credit for the Dragon Age world nor anything in it._

 _Anyway, with that out of the way . . . I know Emma is a bit . . . wimpy? right now, what with her crying left and right but, come on. Who wouldn't be near tears all the time when waking up with no memory of_ who you are _in a world that has dangers left and right and you have no idea how to survive other than to depend on a 'not human' that seems almost as dangerous as what he's protecting you from? Besides, in case some of you did not know, patients that suffer from head injuries that cause memory loss are generally less inhibited about their emotions—they kinda bear their hearts/emotions for all to see._

 _That being said . . . let me know your thoughts on my story, characters, writing, etc. Enjoy!  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: City of Chains**

"It's weird." I muttered as I followed behind Maraas. It was almost midday and according to him, we would reach this Kirkwall place just a few hours after noon. I still wasn't so sure how to feel about being dumped off at the nearest human civilization, especially since the only person I knew and somewhat trusted described it as a 'cesspool.' Okay, that was a lie. I was terrified about all of it. The only connection and sense of safety, however flawed, would soon be leaving me.

So I had been trying to keep my mind off of it entirely, and I couldn't help but think about Beardo and our encounter.

Maraas grunted to let me know he was listening.

"Well, I just think it's weird that Beardo—I mean, those men we had a scuffle with yesterday just left us alone. I was so sure they would try and ambush us or _something_. I mean, they didn't seem so honorable, but maybe there's, like, a bandit code I'm unaware of?"

Beardo shook his head. "Your naiveté is astounding. They have not shown themselves for they know it will cost them more than they wish to lose." He glanced back at me, shifting the claymore on his back. "They are honorless but clever. They wait for when you are not next to me."

I gulped. "So . . . when you leave me at Kirkwall?" He didn't say anything and I took that as a yes. Bloody fantastic. The fear I had been trying to keep at bay was quickly swallowing me up. "Please don't leave me, Maraas." I choked out.

He stopped and turned to look at me. I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes as if I could stop my tears with force alone. "You're the only person I know who hasn't tried to take advantage of or hurt me. I don't know anyone at this Kirkwall place and I'm scared what will happen to me when I _don't know anything_ and I don't know how to defend or provide for myself or know what's okay and what's not okay—!" I was starting to hyperventilate. I quickly locked down on it and bit my lip.

"Ridiculous." He barked.

I hiccupped as I realized I'd get no sympathy from him.

"You think I would just leave you for the city to tear apart after all I've done?"

I stilled and then lowered my hands to watch him carefully.

"There is someone who I intend to turn you over to. She will help you. I am . . . I am not so cruel as that." Maraas said.

"Really?"

"Of course. Now pick up your feet. We still have a lot of ground to cover."

Feeling somewhat lighter, I followed after him.

* * *

I couldn't help it as my jaw dropped at the sight of the city. It was massive. Vaguely, I had a notion that I had seen a bigger city, but since it was so vague, the faded memory didn't diminish what I was now witnessing. Kirkwall was right next to the sea and thus had a harbor that was bordered by two seaside cliffs. Dark and black and with . . . what the hell? Every other aspect faded as I focused in on what I was now looking at. I blinked a couple of times and felt a little apprehensive at what I saw. There were . . . statues of people. They were all bowed over in some shape and their faces were covered by their hands or in some form of supplication or submission. Some lined the cliff sides all the way until the waterway turned into open sea, chains strung from statue to statue. I wondered what their functionality was for besides making the emaciated statues look even more cowed. And then there was one statue, massive in its size, that looked over the entire, tiered city. This one, too, had chains wrapped about itself.

What was that all about? I had a bad feeling, and without meaning too, I grabbed ahold of Maraas's vest. He looked at me then at where I was looking.

"City of Chains. That is what this place used to be called." He enlightened.

"City of Chains?"

He seemed to be watching me carefully. "Yes. It was once the heart of the slave trade." I stared at him in horror. But he didn't look at me. "Come and stay close." Was all he said and since I had no other option. I followed him to the city that had anxiety running through me in place of blood. We approached a gateway where men dressed in metal—armor I remembered—either stood stock still or paced here and there, either on the ground or on the wall. The ones on the wall drew their bows as soon as they saw us and I felt a shiver run through me at having an arrow aimed at me. The guards on the ground placed a hand on their weapons and eyed us wearily, or at least I got that feeling since I couldn't really see their faces under their helmets. Not us, I belatedly realized, but on Maraas. Did his reputation proceed him? Did they know what he used to do? But deep down, I had a feeling that this wariness went deeper.

"State your business, Qunari."

Maraas growled and the guard took a step back, drawing his sword an inch from its sheathe. "I found one of your kind, injured and lost. I brought her back."

The guard turned to look at me. "Doesn't look like she's a citizen. Where do you hail from, then?"

"I . . . don't know?" I answered uncertainly, looking to Maraas.

"Don't know? How do you not know?" He demanded.

"I wake up not knowing a lot of things, um, sir." I was getting a fair bit nervous. I mean, if they didn't let me into the city, what would we do next? "Please, sir. He said there was someone in the city who could help me. I have nowhere else to go."

The guard glanced at his buddy and they stared at each other a while. Sighing, the first guard turned back to me. "What's your name, then?"

"Emma . . . Fletcher."

"Well, Serah Fletcher, we'll permit you to enter our city. Maker knows our Guard-Captain would have our hides for turning away an injured person. But you better not start trouble, or we'll kick you out, injured or no. You've been warned."

I nodded eagerly.

"And keep mind of what company you keep." He gestured to Maraas. "They aren't to be trusted, Serah, and especially his kind."

"Um . . . I'll keep that in mind?"

Maraas grabbed me by the arm and led me past the guards, spitting out, "Basra vashedan!"

We were currently entering the second to lowest tier, or so I assumed. There were a great many steps that led people to the lowest, where the harbor and docks were and an array of ships sat, docked or anchored in the bay. There were two long staircases, one huge and wide, the other narrow that led up from the low tier. The narrower of the two led up from the docks, but both led up to the highest tier. But I wasn't able to notice much else as dilapidated buildings obscured my view.

Whereas the tier with the docks seemed to be filled with people working, pulling things from ships or loading the vessels and so on, the one we were currently on seemed all about the selling of wares from stalls. Market, that was the word. I couldn't help but stare at some of the items on display, some of them beautiful, some unique or strange. I knew some of them vaguely and others I didn't know at all. My eyes took in swords, walking sticks, worn armor, jewels, and so much more. Venders and shoppers alike were shouting at each other, to each other, over each other. The noises and sounds were a bit overwhelming. The godawful scent of decaying fish and some other unnamed but just as rancid smell assailed my nose. I wanted to make Maraas stop, just for a moment so I could gather myself, do some breathing exercises or _something_ to lessen the pressure that was pushing and pulling at me, and expanding from within.

However, Maraas wasn't looking for something in the market as he walked brusquely through it all, his face set in a frown. Stumbling after him, it hadn't escaped my notice that anyone and everyone in the market seemed to part and steer clear of the giant. I mean, I couldn't blame them since he was intimidating as crap, but . . . weren't they more familiar with his kind? The way he spoke, it was like Qunari was at least a term or people everyone knew of. Then again, maybe all they knew were of the Tal-Vashoth variety so . . . not the good kind? With that being my only knowledge, I'd steer clear of him too.

We left the market behind us and walked up a small flight of stairs to enter what I assumed was a housing district. It was a lot calmer here and . . . dirty. Maybe the market area had been just as dirty, but this place, with its absence of people, made it all the more obvious. Here and there was a person either sitting or lying down on the ground. Some of them laid in vomit and I had to plug my nose so as not to add to the pile. Others seemed to call the streets home and my heart broke for them as they wore clothes little more than rags and limbs that were little more than skin and bones.

In an alley we passed, I watched, wide-eyed at the brief glance of what I assumed was a mugging as a man was being held up by the throat against a wall by a man dressed in sleek armor and armed to the teeth while men of similar dress walked on. I suddenly felt incredible nervous and skittish.

"Maraas—"

But he pressed on until he came to a house that was . . . little more than a shack. He pounded on the frame and I was a little amazed that it didn't come crashing down. When no one answered, Maraas snorted then pounded on the frame once more.

After a few moments, the door opened and I blinked at the face that peeked out. It was a woman and someone had carved up her face. Looking at them, I knew they were no accident. One was particularly bad, going from the corner of her right eye and dragging down to the corner of her mouth, only to veer back towards the corner of her jaw and down her throat. This scar then drew attention to the one . . . oh my God.

Oh my God!

A hand slapped to my mouth. Someone had slit her throat. My eyes jerked back to hers. She raised a brow at me, then looked up at Maraas. "Thought ya said you weren't never comin' back, ya bastard." Her voice was coarse and rough. No wonder why.

"Shanedan, kadan."

She huffed and wagged a finger at Maraas. "I ain't havin' none of yer 'kadan' nonsense." She jerked her chin at me. "Who's this then? Odd clothes she's wearin'."

To say I was more than a little curious about this woman and Maraas's relationship was an understatement. By word and action, she was more than at ease with Maraas . . . if not a little peeved, for whatever reason. I eyed Maraas, suddenly noting the small, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at his mouth and the way the creases at the corners of his eyes and between his bows were smoothed. Huh.

"She needs your help, kadan."

She suddenly slapped him across his arm. "I said stop." Then she turned to me. "Need mah help, do ya? Well, what's yer name?"

"Um, Emma, ma'am."

She snorted. "Well, 'Um Emma,' I ain't no lady so save that 'ma'amin' for someone else." She turned back to Maraas. "Where'd ya find this one, ya brute? Looks and acts like some noble or somethin'. You ain't been up to yer old mischief, has you?"

"No, kadan." The way he said that word, 'kadan' now, was almost in a tone of challenge, as if daring her to contend with the declaration once more. "I saved her from my Tal-Vashoth brothers. She is addled and in need of someone to guide her."

The women looked at me again, her features all soft now. "Addled, eh? Poor thing. And I bet bein' stuck with this sack of sunshine helped out, hey?"

I couldn't help it. I sputtered out a laugh before forcing it back. I liked her. A lot. She smiled at me then stepped aside. "Alright, then. Come on in. Mind, it ain't much but its home. You be careful with that horn of yours."

She placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me to a sort of bench made out of what looked like . . . crates? Maraas almost had to bend in half to get into the house and continued stooping until he sat on the dirt floor and seemed to take up any remaining room. The woman skirted him and huffed. "Yer too big, ya lout. Like I got a mountain in mah home." She shook her head then sat next to me. "I'd offer ya some refreshment, but seein' as I wasn't expectin' no one and work has been slim, you'll do without."

"Excuse me, but . . . I never got your name."

She seemed startled. "Where're mah manners. My name is Eva."

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

"What'd I tell ya about that 'ma'am' business?"

"Sorry." I mumbled.

She waved it off. "So how bad's this 'addling' of yers? Tell me from the beginning."

I picked at some dirt on my jeans. To be quite honest, this woman was a whirlwind and I was trying to get my bearings back. After a while I gave up and sighed. "I woke up on a beach. Some . . . Tal-Vashoth," I glanced at Maraas, and he nodded that I got it right, "found me and attacked me. They knocked me unconscious but . . . I didn't . . . didn't know much before that anyway. I know my name. I know some basic things." Then I furrowed my brow. "And some really random but specific things."

"Like what?"

My eyes glanced to Maraas. "I know the names of weapons. I knew that the Tal-Vashoth who approached me when I first woke up carried javelins and broadswords. I know that the one Maraas carries is a claymore—which is beyond impressive he can swing with one hand. I know that swords that require too hands are best used in a swinging or circular motion, rather than stabbing. For example." I shrugged, putting a stop to my word vomit. But I could have gone on. That the claymore was of Scottish origins and there were two widely known variants. I knew the best stances for defense and attack. Strangely, I had a feeling they wouldn't know what I was talking about, and to be honest, though the words came from my own mouth, I couldn't tell anyone what 'Scottish' was or show them what I was so knowledgeable about. It was kind of like reading a book describing in detail things but had no pictures to show you what it meant nor did it define any of the bigger terms.

They both regarded me thoughtfully. "A sellsword, perhaps?" Eva asked quietly, turning to Maraas. "Sailin' on a ship what got caught in the storm a few days past?"

He quickly shook his head. "She may have potential, but no. She has no bearing of a warrior."

"Noble, then? The way she holds herself isn't of common way."

Maraas shrugged.

"Hm. Forgot you know nothin' of our heriarchy." She turned to me. "And ya know nothin' else? Not where yer from or where ya been going?"

I shrugged helplessly, trying once again to fight back the tears of frustration. She must have sensed how close I was to losing it, because she leaned over and hugged me. And that did it, that simple human gesture of companionship and comfort did me in. For what felt like the hundredth time, I broke down and sobbed into her shoulder.

"There now. I'll help ya, in whatever way I can."

* * *

 _The image kept flickering,_ tearing, _as blurry images turned sharp and clear into that place with the green tinged sky. Someone was walking towards me, a beautiful woman, who was unaffected by the jerking and changing scenery. The only constant. She was talking to me, but I couldn't understand her._

 _She was gorgeous, though. So, so, so pretty._

 _She extended her hand to me, but I shied away. A strange thought, "Stranger danger" popped into my head. I started shaking my head. "No," I mouthed. "No."_

I must have fallen asleep in her arms and then Eva had settled me down on the crate-couch thing. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up, finding I was alone in the hovel. I glanced at the door and started to my feet when I saw Eva standing there and then, past her shoulder and turning the corner was Maraas. I ran to the door.

"He just left?" I asked incredulous. "I didn't get to say goodbye or . . . or thank him . . ."

Eva sighed. "It's his way." Her eyes slid to me only to stare at the corner he had disappeared at. "He's punsihin' himself for somethin' he had no control over. Fool of a man."

"Will we see him again?"

She shook her head, her red curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I never have a clue with that one." Then she turned fully to face me. "He brought ya to me to help ya back on yer feet. And I can't never turn down anything he asks. I ain't gunna lie to ya. You'll be earning yer keep with me. I can't afford no leech. I ain't rich nor do I got no high connections. But I know mah way 'round this city better'n most. I'll find ya work and you'll earn yerself a place here. It'll be hard work, dreary and maybe even soul-suckin' but you'll be fed and have a roof over yer head. And that's what matters. Ya hear me, girl?"

I was completely sucker-punched by her blunt honesty, but I appreciated it none the less. I nodded, feeling myself straighten and steel myself for my new life here. I hadn't a shadow of a doubt that whatever life I had led before had been much easier. I nodded. Really, what other choice did I have? For a split second, the notion of unsavory occupations entered my head. No. This was my only chance at avoiding such a life.

"Good. I'm hopin' that as time passes, you'll start rememberin' what ya fergot. Ya ain't the first I know of what got yer brain all mixed up. I daresay, ya won't be the last. So there's hope, girl, and don't ya ferget it. Now, let's find out what yer any good at, eh?"


	4. Chapter 4: Definitely a Noble

**_Heads up_** _. I changed a few things here and there, hence why it took me a little longer than usual to post. Nothing too drastic, but you may scratch your heads at a few things later on if you don't reread or skim the previous chapters._

 _I'm kinda in love with Eva. Her and Maraas's story has been bugging me nonstop but I want to finish this tale first._

 _I should probably point out that the timeline is a bit sketchy for this story/scenes/happenings may be out of order in comparison to how the game lays it out, but oh well. Also, my grasp of maps is horrid. I've never been good at describing a place unless I've been there. So PLEASE feel free to help me out if I'm describing a location wrong or it comes off awkward. I'd appreciate it._

 _Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy._

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Definitely a Noble**

Eva sat me down on her bench again. "Supper is almost ready."

As I watched her bustling about, my need to know became unbearable. "Eva . . . can you . . . please tell me about this place? Can I ask you some questions? None of this seems even remotely similar."

Eva paused or a moment, thinking. "Did Ashaad tell you nothing?" She placed a plate in front of me.

"Ashaad?"

She snorted. "I suppose he didn't tell you that. He was called Ashaad a'fore he left the Qun. Kind of a sore spot. What'd he have you callin' 'im?"

"Um, Maraas." I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if she knew what it meant. By her confused expression, I was guessing she did not. And now I felt guilty, like I was keeping a secret from someone I had no right to keep a secret from. But before I could open my mouth to let her know, she was already talking.

"Hmph. Alright then. So Maraas, told you nothing'?"

"No, not really. He doesn't really talk much."

She gave a short laugh. "Now ain't that the truth. Always been a quiet man. Well then. Ask away." She sat down next to me with her own plate. She cut a steamed potato in half and gave me an end. "Mind, it's hot."

"Kirkwall . . . used to be the center of slave trade?"

"Can't tell what yer askin'. But yeah. Them Tevinter whatsits had them a little rebellion and they stuck the slaves here. Sure yah seen them statues. They was a reminder that slaves needed ta know their place. Good reminder. Had 'em workin' the mines here, too."

"So is it still a . . . slave capitol?"

She waved her hand. "They went and outlawed slavery, but don't mean nasty people still don't try . . . or that other more subtler forms haven't taken the more blatant one." God, this Kirkwall got better and better. Eva took a bite of her meal and I nibbled at mine, my stomach suddenly acidic. "That being said, I suppose I should warn ya. This here area is called Lowtown. It's big and it's where us Commoners live. Up there," She gestured above her head, "Is Hightown. Where all them nobles live and tell us what to do. And you mind yerself if one of them nobles deigns to be among us. Don't look up from yer feet and don't ya speak unless spoken to, ya hear?"

I nodded mutely, setting aside my plate, my appetite gone. Actually, I was feeling really sick. Eva eyed my plate then shook her head.

"Then again, there is that Hawke fella. Moved up from Lowtown and into Hightown recently. He ain't got that uppity air to 'im and he comes down quite often. Then again, I've heard he's a mage, so ya gotta be careful, yeah?" She noticed my abandoned meal. "You eat that. Never know when you'll eat again." She pushed the plate back into my hands, noting my pensive expression. "I know yer curious and yer wantin' to know since all this is new to yah right now, but ya gotta keep up yer strength and take it easy for a bit. I would like to know more about yah, if'n that's okay? Now then, yer name is Emma, correct?"

"Emma Fletcher." I mumbled.

Eva looked at me in surprise. "Yer family name is Fletcher, then? Yer sire must have worked with arrows, eh? Did you?"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think so. It doesn't _feel_ right."

"Huh. Yah know, I've been wonderin' if'n yer a noble. I mean, yer pretty enough, got all yer teef as far as I can see." Consciously I touched my mouth and glanced at Eva. I noted she was missing two or three teeth. "And yah pronounce words something pretty. Definitely not from here, though. Don't got a Free Marcher's accent. Or Ferelden, for that matter. Only met one Rivaini and you ain't got their way with words either. Such a mystery."

She actually seemed excited, a gleam entering her eye. Then she smiled kindly at me. "Do yah remember anythin'? Like, what kind of clothin' yah got on right now, for instance?"

"Um, this is called a t-shirt." I fingered my shirt.

"T-shirt, huh? What's it made of? Cotton?"

"I . . . that sounds right."

Eva clucked her tongue. "That's a mighty expensive material. Seems more'n more yer a noble. And these?" She plucked at my jeans.

"Jeans. And no, I have no idea what they're made of."

"Never heard of 'jeens' afore." She shrugged. "Lots of stuff I dun know about though. Anything else you remember? Yer family? Likes, dislikes, things like that?"

For a moment, I closed my eyes and tried desperately to remember _something_. But all I got was a fierce headache that made me flinch. But, for a very brief moment, I saw something. "I remember . . . I remember a painting. I think it's mine. I think I . . . I think I painted."

Eva stared at me then laughed. "A noble! Definitely a noble! Paints are expensive and as is everythin' else to do with it. When yah remember what noble family yer from, you remember me, yah hear?" Chuckling, she stood and started banking the fire. When that was done, she went and grabbed something out of a cabinet. She turned and I found out it was a blanket.

"It's time for us to go to bed. I only got one bed and it's only big enough fer one. And I may be charitable, I'm not that self-sacrificin'. This here will be yer bed." Gripping one end of the blanket, she tossed it out, unfurling it, and laid it onto the ground. Choking down the rest of the potato, I went and sat down the blanket. It was expectedly hard and uncomfortable—but it wasn't anything different from what I had been forced to sleep on before when traveling with Maraas.

Eva was going through a crate and when she came back to me once more, she held clothing in her hand. "This here is my spare attire I had to scrimp and save fer, but . . ." She eyed me, "Yer clothin's too noticeable. And Maraas told me about them nasty fellas you met on the road here. Honestly, I'm surprised yah didn't meet anything else. That aside, yer easy to spot in them clothing. Use these as yer pillow and then change into them in the mornin'."

I grabbed them from her and watched her as she went about doing some finishing touches for the night. She knocked her foot against a clay pot. "This here is the chamberpot, if'n ya need to relieve yerself in the night." Though I drew a blank on chamberpot, I immediately got the picture. I almost gagged, but gulped it down and nodded. "You'll be comin' with me in the mornin'. Hopefully we can find yah some work."

"Okay." I laid down, my head swimming as it laid on top of the clothing. Eva must have finished up because the light went out, submerging us in darkness, and I heard her get into her bed.

"Painting, ha!" She chuckled again. There was a stretch of silence and I thought Eva had fallen asleep, when suddenly she asked hesitantly, "Yah think . . . yah could paint me? Yah know, without my scars?"

Shocked, I wasn't sure what to say. "I . . . I don't know."

She hummed. "I kinda forgot what I looked like without 'em. I used to be pretty, ya know. Very pretty and it got me into trouble all the time. Fer them Hightown folk, it's a blessin', but for us Commoners, it's a right curse. Didn't look at it like that for a while, until I . . . sorry. Get yer rest."

It hit me right then, how horrid this place was. I knew, deep down in my soul, that where I came from, wherever that was, what happened to Eva just _didn't happen_. That the clear-cut class distinctions _weren't there_. I clutched my hands to my chest. And I realized just how giving Eva was despite what little she had, how kind she was despite what happened to her. "Thank you, Eva. For everything. I promise I'll pull my weight."

She gave a soft grunt.


	5. Chapter 5: The Hanged Man

_Wow. Lot of revising on this one. I just couldn't seem to be happy with it, one way or another. So I decided to just post it._

 _Ugh. And I'm right alongside some of you wondering when Hawke and friends will enter. STORY, STOP STALLING._

 _Please remember to leave reviews so I know what I'm doing good and what I can improve on or maybe to say, "Uh, Ink, you missed a bunch of spelling errors."_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: The Hanged Man**

 _When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by strange scenery. Spinning in a slow circle, I took in my surroundings. The sky was an eerie green color, flashing here and there and acting like it was almost moving, like a living breathing thing. I noted that the flashing would be in time with a creature that was inhaling and exhaling and the bizarre thought that I had been swallowed by something massive entered my head._

 _Massive rocks jutted from here and there, hanging in the sky, into the sky. There really was no rhyme or reason and the laws of physic most certainly held no sway here. My feet were currently firmly planted on a jagged path and my eyes followed it, amazed to find the land spiraling and folding in on itself to the point my eyes started hurting and I felt slightly faint._

 _"What is this place?" I whispered._

 _"This is the Fade." An androgynous, hissing voice whispered back._

 _Heart in my throat, I whirled around. And I had no idea what I was looking at or maybe a better way of putting it was this: I had no idea if I was actually looking at something or if my eyes were playing tricks on me. The air . . . wavered and shifted and that anomaly of space outlined a somewhat . . . humanoid form. But it was like seeing something from the side of your ear but when you turned to look it dead on, it's not there anymore. It was most disconcerting and made me feel sick to my stomach._

 _"What are you?" I gasped._

 _"I am Despair." I startled when suddenly Change wasn't there. I jerked my head this way and that, but it wasn't anywhere. "But perhaps the better question: what are you?"_

 _I screamed and turned. Somehow it had gotten behind me without me seeing. "I'm human!" I said in a high, stressed voice._

 _"Not like any human I know."_

 _"What?"_

 _It ignored my question and was gone again in a flash. The scenery changed so quickly, my sense of balance was thrown off and I stumbled to my knees. The eerie place was gone now and instead . . . I was in Kirkwall? At least, I thought it was. I hadn't really seen enough to be a hundred percent sure. I was in a place where I was surrounded on all sides by high,_ thick _walls. Stairs led to a balcony-like structure which then led to the keep; there were portcullises to my right, left and across from the keep. It felt like a—_

 _"Prison, yes." I stared wide-eyed at Despair, but again, my eyes couldn't latch onto him. "Or so many think of it and so it has become. It is saturated in Despair and Misery. This place is ripe for Change."_

 _"This isn't real." I muttered to myself. "A dream. Has to be."_

 _"A dream? Yes, of course. How else would someone of your inabilities be here?" I threw myself back as suddenly Despair was in front of me and less than half a foot from me. It reached for me and I flinched at the wavering hand, which, for the life of me, looked clawed suddenly. It clenched right in front of my chest and I lurched when I felt something being tugged where my heart was. In a panic, I looked down. There was this glowing string being pulled taunt by Despair's hand. "A strange color." Despair murmured._

 _I winced and looked up at Despair and I was so terrified, I was struck with paralysis. I could_ see _it now and I wanted nothing more than the see-through, mirage like appearance of before. Its cloaked head rose to look at me and I commanded my body to move, but I couldn't. He smiled and my eyes widened as his parchment thin skin pulled apart to reveal two mouths and two sets of razor sharp teeth._

 _And then he_ pulled _and the pain was so excruciating, I couldn't even scream._

* * *

"Wake up, sleepyhead." I jerked awake as Eva gently shook my shoulder. She quirked an eye at me. "You okay?"

"Strange dream." I murmured as I sat up and a wave of shivers washed over me. Absentmindedly, I rubbed where my heart was, not even wondering why there was a phantom pain there.

"Dream? What'd yah dream about?"

I opened my mouth to tell her, but already the dream was fading to where I could only remember staggered images and sensations. I closed my mouth and shrugged. "It was just a dream."

"Hm. I dun know about that. Dreams can be a powerful thing. You be careful." She wagged a finger at me and then pushed a bowl into my hands. I looked down and forced down the grimace. Whatever was in the bowl looked like a tan sludge. "It's not much, but it's somethin'. Go on. Eat. We need ta head out soon."

I choked down the meal. It was tasteless and the texture left much to be desired, but it was warm. I had some trouble getting the outfit on that Eva had provided me and when she saw the tangle I had gotten myself in, she huffed and helped me out in a not so gentle way. Once I was situated, I looked down at myself and a grimace and a mild sense of disgust washed over me. And then I blinked in surprise. Oh. I hated dresses. Like, a lot. I wanted nothing more than to throw it off and tear it up but I doubted Eva would appreciate that.

"How yer noggin' feelin'?"

Oh. My hand went to the back of my head. To be honest, I had forgotten, which seemed odd. I mean, that lump and cracked skin that the Tal-Vashoth had inflicted on me had hurt like a bitch initially. Surely it should still hurt? "Um . . . weirdly okay?"

She nodded. "Good. And them scratches? Maraas didn't seem to apply the same healing potion there."

Healing potion? What? But again, I was surprised to find my face didn't act anymore. "Feels okay too."

She seemed as unsurprised as I was surprised by the whole thing. "Here." She extended her hand to me with what I realized was the knife Maraas gave me. "If ya got a blade, ya keep it on ya. May save yer life one day." Taking it, I deliberated on where I should put it before slipping it into the cinch around my waist. Eva pursed her lips, then shrugged. "As long as yah can get to it. Alright, then. Let's go get usselves some work.

* * *

As Eva led the way through the streets, I couldn't help taking in everything around me, even in the incredibly dull light that the grey, sunless sky offered. My eyes flitted from house to house, or rather hovel to hovel. None of the houses in this part of Lowtown were in very good repair or maybe all of Lowtown was like this, I didn't know. Here and there were people on the street. One was a man that was best described as a bag of bones. After a few seconds of staring at him, I jerked to a stop.

His chest wasn't moving. I glanced at Eva who was still walking away. Something in me wanted to go over to the deathly still man, do _something_ , but I had no idea what. I was so torn and conflicted.

"Emma! Stay close to me!"

I hesitated only a moment more before I stumbled to Eva's side, my mind racing. Was the man dead? Could I have done something? I had no idea and the further we walked, the further from knowing the truth I was. I started worrying my lip as my eyes took in the dirty streets, the worn looking people who hadn't seen a bath in what looked and smelt like years. We walked over a bridge and for the first time, I had a good view of the port and the ocean. Something massive in the center of the port, barely outlined by a grey sky, caught my attention. I slowed down and Eva noted my fixated stare.

"Called the Gallows."

Immediately, images of people with ropes around their necks came to mind, and then people hanging by said ropes. A very uneasy feeling made my stomach curdle.

"It . . . is a prison?"

Eva waved her hand, then folded her arms across her chest. "Used to be filled with slaves. Not no more. Filled with them mages now. Usin' it as a Circle." Then she shrugged, huffing. "Some folk and I'm sure all of them mages might think it a prison though. But magic ain't nothing to be taken lightly, is what I say."

"Mages . . ." I whispered. A snippet of last night's conversation entered my mind. "You said something about mages last night. What are they?"

She seemed a bit surprised by my question. "How is it you don't know? That is somethin' every child learns as soon as they can walk." At my uncertain look, she relaxed. "Never yah mind. Mages use magic. Yah know what magic is, yeah?"

Blurry images of mirrors and lights and smoke entered my head. "Illusions. Tricks? It's not real?" I asked hesitantly.

Eva shook her head. "Oh it's real alright. Real as you or I is. Not sure how to explain it. Never was interested in it, as unmagicked that I am." She seemed to be mulling something over. Then she started rolling up her sleeve. I gaped at the scar there, a hand covering my mouth. Her skin was all wrinkled and puckered and angry looking, even if the scarring was old. "It's real though. Mages can make fire appear out'a nowhere, shoot it from their palms. Some use lightenin', some ice. Depends on the mage, I guess. Some can use magic to heal, but that takes a special kinda person, as far as I know."

"Are they dangerous?" I choked out, a sliver of fear running up my spine.

She shrugged. "Can be, I suppose. Same as anyone with any kinda weapon can be." Then her jaw tightened. "But those people with a weapon ain't tempted every moment, ain't bein' whispered to by some demon."

"W-what?" Images of fire and long-tongues and horned monsters flared into my mind.

She crooked a finger at me, indicating I should continue walking with her. "The surest way for one of them demons to escape the Fade and into our world is to possess one of them mages. And you bet yer bottom that there will be blood as soon as a mage is possessed. Always is and always will be." She shook her head. "They're too dangerous to just be out and about with everyday folk. That's why they're all locked up in that there Gallows—keeps everyone safe."

I remained silent the rest of the way. I had a lot to think about. Mages, huh? I shivered once again. I needed to stay clear of them, then. But according to Eva, that shouldn't be too difficult, since they were all locked away at that Gallows or Circle place. But then, she had said that that man—Hawke?—was a mage but was free to roam. Why was that? Had he proven himself to be immune to such dangers that haunted the rest? But as I ponder on those things, I felt myself become a bit uneasy. Such mentality, that a person should be locked away simply for his potential to do wrong, wasn't right. _That_ I felt in my bones.

But before I could worry more about it, Eva had stopped. I blinked and looked around me. We were in a higher part of Lowtown—I vaguely remember going up a small flight of stairs. But right in front of us was something that had me raising my brows. It was a metal effigy of a man and around the man's ankle was a rope of which he was hanging upside down from a beam. On the metal effigy was white paint in what I assumed was written something in Eva's language. So apparently they spoke English, but didn't write whatever it was I knew to be writing.

Weird.

Then Eva started around the corner into a narrow alley to a small, narrow entrance to the back. She pounded her fist on the wood and a few moments later, a rather disgruntled, bearded man opened the door.

"Good morning, Donovan!" Eva said chirpily.

The man was gruff looking, to say the least. His red beard needed to be trimmed and his head was bald, greased to a shine. He had a scar that slashed across his nose. His sleeves were rolled up which left his rather impressively muscled arms to be exposed. I gulped, edging closer to Eva—he didn't seem the friendly type.

A bloodshot eye watched me before turning back to Eva with a huff. "Come on in then. Got it all laid out. Wasn't 'spectin' a tag along though." He was staring at me intently.

Eva wrapped an arm around me. "She'll be helpin' me today."

Donovon snorted. "As long as she can get whot needs ta be done, done."

He stepped to the side and Eva ducked under his arm to enter the building, tugging me along into a room that smelled like dough. My eyes lingered on the gruff man before he closed the door and walked past us. We looked to be in what I assumed was a kitchen. There were a couple stoves as well as a huge oven where Donovan was currently pulling bread out on a tool I felt like I should know the name of, but had no idea what to call. There were shelves lined with vials and bottles and canisters of varying sizes, all labeled in Eva's language.

Eva led me to a stool and five bags of potatoes. She sat me down next to the stool and took the stool for herself. "Donovan, we'll need another paring knife."

"Don't got one. Broke."

Eva scowled. "Buy a new one then, eh?"

"With what money? In the middle of switchin' 'ands."

Eva looked surprised. She quickly turned to me. "Use that there knife. Won't work quite as nice, but better'n nothin', yeah?" She patted my shoulder kindly, handing me a potato as she set to work on her own bunch. For a minute, I just stared at my hands, potato in one and knife in the other. How . . . ? In my mind, I vaguely recalled that this task hadn't been so daunting before. I watched as Eva set to work, wanting to learn how to do this.

"Switchin' hands? When did this all happen?"

Donovan was kneading bread for another batch of bread and I found why his arms were so muscular. "Recently."

I started peeling my own potato, wincing as the knife occasionally slipped and nicked my fingers. Smiling triumphantly, I turned to look at Eva, only to feel it fall from my face—she had at least ten potatoes peeled by the time my one was done. Feeling far from discouraged, however, I determinedly set about doing better.

"So ol' Finigan is finally sellin'? Who to?"

"That dwarf feller, Varric."

Eva snorted a laugh. "That yarn-spinner? I suppose it coulda gone to a worse fella."

"Dwarf?" I piped up, my curiosity piqued. Images of a short person covered in hair entered my head. And an odd phrase popped into my head: mole people. I snorted as I tried to suppress a laugh. Surely not.

Donovan scowled at me. "Ya dun know whot a dwarf is?" Turning to Eva, he asked, "'Ow sheltered wos she?"

Ignoring him, but not once taking her eyes off her work, she said, "Dwarves are them short people from underground."

"Oh." So I hadn't been entirely wrong, then. Huh.

For a while all we did in that kitchen was work. Eva commented that I was a quick study, which made my chest swell with pride like some six-year-old being told their first attempt at drawing was a masterpiece. I knew it wasn't true, but the fact that Eva was kind enough to take notice of my hard work was appreciated. As it was, with my abysmal peeling abilities, Eva ended her portion quickly and ended up helping me.

Donovan was coming and going through one of two doors that led further into the building. It looked like he was cleaning up and getting things ready for . . . . actually, I wasn't entirely sure what for.

"Eva, what is this place?"

She startled. "Oh, I fergot to tell ya. This is called the Hanged Man. It's a tavern. Best one in all'a Lowtown, or so they say." She winked at me, grinning.

I looked up when someone walked in, expecting Donovan, but instead saw a young man with blond hair step in. When he saw us, he smiled. "Hey, Eva! Haven't seen you ina while."

"'Ello, Corff."

Corff's eyes slid to me. "Who's this?"

"My name is Emma." I introduced myself.

He gave a nod of his head in acknowledgement. "Nice ta'meetchya, Emma. Been in a fight lately?" he grinned and tapped his cheek.

I couldn't help the fierce smile that found its way on my face. "Shoulda seen the other guy."

Corff guffawed. "I like this one!" He winked at me. "Me'n you will get along just fine."

I grinned. Donovan came back in and as soon as he saw Corff, he cuffed him on the back of the head. "Yer late, ya layabout. Get to the bar and start getting' ready." Donovan turned to me, eyeing the pile of potatoes yet to be peeled. Under his critical eye, I couldn't control the blush that blasted my face. "If'n ya have time to talk, ya have time to peel them potaters," he gruffed.

I nodded and quickly set back to work. Eva gave me a light bump with her shoulder. "He acts all crusty but he's a big ol' softy unnerneath. _Deep, deep_ unnerneath."

"I mos' certainly am not!" He hollered. He pointed an accusing finger at Eva. "An' you stop tellin' folk that!"

Eva laughed.

As we set to peeling the last potatoes, I couldn't help the bit of curiosity that rose up in me. "Hey, Eva?"

"Hm?"

"Where's Donovan from? His accent is different from yours and Corff's."

"He's from Ferelden. Kirkwaller now. Lucky fer him though that he came in before all that Blight buisniess or we'd'a missed out on a good, kind, giving—"

"Stop!" He barked.

Eva smiled. "Deny it all ya want, but I seen ya feedin' scraps ta them alley cats and handin' out a few coins to them street urchins."

Donovan turned beet red and opened and closed his mouth before whirling around and grumbling to himself as he stirred something in a pot.

"What's a Blight?"

And just like that, there was a tenseness in the air. "A Blight is when an Archdemon rises and brings with it an army of Darkspawn. And afore you ask, an Archdemon is, accordin' to the Chantry, a corrupted ol' god, a dragon. And Darkspawn, may ya never set eyes on one, are corrupted men."

"What . . . what do or want or . . ."

"Ta destroy mankind. Corrupt us all. I dun know. I just know they kill us unprovoked, without mercy or reason." Eva was quite for a while. Then shivered, as if shaking off the cold that had suddenly seeped into the room. "But we avoided all that thanks to King Alistair and Queen and Grey Warden Commander Evelyn Cousland." She shook her head. "Amazin', that they were able ta do what they did. Just amazin'."

I tucked that info away for a while. "Where's Ferelden? Is it like Kirkwall?"

The bark of laughter from Donovan startled me. "Where the hell is this one from, Eva?"

"I told ya. She's a bit addled—hurt her head. She can't remember some things. But, Emma, Ferelden is an entire country across the Wakin' Sea. And it is nothin' like Kirkwall, but maybe Donovan will be better at describin' t isince I've never been."

Donovan shrugged. "Not much ta tell, really. Fereldens're . . . tough people. Very resilient-like. Ah. They're can be known as Dog Lords fer the Mabaris war hounds they breed. Lots'a mud an' forests and superstitions . . . and rollin' 'ills an' fields of grain an' clear water. . ."

"It sounds beautiful." And it really did. My heart ached at the description. Was that . . . longing? Was I from Ferelden? But that didn't make sense. I didn't talk like Donovan . . . and I feel like Eva would have been able to tell.

"Depends on who ya ask, I suppose. To me? This city is just as beautiful."


	6. Chapter 6: It's Not Perfect, No

_So . . . have ya figured out this is a slow burn? 'Cause I just did. *sigh*. Stay with me ya'll. Some interesting things are revealed here. Also, I have a feeling that Emma will be meeting Hawke SOON. Like, soon soon. Haha_

 _Also, funny thing. I just remembered that Maraas, my character that I created, is an actual character in Dragon Age. Go figure. I promise I totally forgot and want to emphasize that my Maraas is NOT the Maraas already established in Dragon Age 2. Just to be clear._

 _SO! Thanks for reading and please be sure to leave a review. Lemme know what ya think of my story. Chapters too long? Short? Hard to follow? Too slow paced? Too fast? Too confusing? Just right? Let me know. I can't get better unless I hear from ya'll._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: It's Not Perfect, No**

"'Eere." Donovan handed over bonze or maybe copper colored coins to Eva.

Eva huffed. "This ain't much, Donovan."

"Yeah, well, it's all I got. Ol' Finnigan was a right miser when it came ta money. And since Varric ain't got the tavern in 'is name yet, I won't be gettin' money from 'im for a while yet."

Donovan turned and handed over five coins to me, a fair smaller amount than Eva. But I was okay with that—I was hardly as skilled as the fierce woman next to me. Plus, she had done more than her share of work.

Eva grimaced and slid her coins into a pouch that was tied tightly to her waist. "It'll buy us a meal at the very least," She sighed. I turned and quickly extended my hand to her, coins resting in my palm. She looked at me in surprise. "What'ch'ya doin'?"

"Take it. I . . . this will be my compensation for helping me." She began to wave me off, but I shook my hand. "I won't accept no as an answer. Please, let me do this."

Eva hesitated, then picked the coins from my had and put them in her pouch.

Donovan watched the exchange, his eyebrow raised. "Who is this girl, Eva? I've never seen her afore. She can't be kin—she looks nothin' like ya. Ya said she's addled. Whot 'appened?"

I bristled a bit. I didn't like it that he kept talking around me, like I wasn't there or intelligent enough to answer for myself. "I'm right here, you know." I bit out.

Donovan glanced at me. "So ya are and that's why I'm askin' about ya."

Eva put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "She was found, washed up, at the Wounded Coast. She can't remember hardly nothin'. I'm thinkin' she was hit on the head and it knocked 'er memories out. She's stayin' with me till she remembers herself."

Donovan huffed. "Be careful what yer doin', Eva. She handles 'erself like a noble. You know whot trouble they bring."

Eva stiffened and so did I. I stiffened because I didn't want to be associated with those people that Eva had described—entitled snobs. Eva stiffened for a different reason, but I hadn't a clue as to why. Actually, that was a lie. I had a hunch her reaction had everything to do with her scars. My suspicions where confirmed when she bit out, "I have permanent reminders of what they can be like."

Donovan's face fell. "I didn't mean—"

Eva swooped her arm in a cutting gesture. "I know what ya meant."

"I'm sorry, Eva. I am." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know whot 'appened isn't . . . ya didn't 'ave no—"

Eva was all ice now. "We'll be back tomorrow mornin' ta help once more."

"A-alright."

Without another look at the stricken man, Eva left the building with me stumbling after. She stormed down the street a little when she froze and whirled around. Startled, I scrambled to a stop, barely able to stop myself from ramming into her. "I'm sorry. I was lost in . . . fergive me." Sighing, she looked up at the sun, which wasn't too high yet. "There is much time yet left today and we must not waste it. Come."

* * *

Eva was a force of nature that couldn't be stopped. After we had left the Hanged Man behind with a sheepish Donovan, I followed Eva to several different locations where we did menial work. Each time we were met with reluctant employers and each time Eva found a way to get them to take us on.

And each time, she had to show me what to do. Apparently, I was unskilled in the most basic of daily tasks. And unused to it, as well. Right now we were washing some clothes. Eva had shown me how to properly place the washboard and scrub and clean. Ten minutes in and my hands were killing me. They ached, burned, and were swollen. I could barely bend them. Eva saw the state of my hands and shook her head.

"A noble. Gotta be." Eva sighed and sat back on her heels. "I would take ya ta Hightown to ask 'round if anyone knows ya, but . . . I wouldn't know where ta start. Don't know if someone would take advantage of yer situation and pretend ta know ya and then take advantage of ya. This city has gotten sick." She said sadly. "Very sick."

 _A greater cesspool there never was._

I was agreeing more and more with Maraas.

"I-I'm okay." I said, even though my hands were killing me. I took up another thing of clothing and began washing. Wincing and flinching the entire time.

"Yer a good sort. Wouldn't mind bein' yer servant. Feel like ya'd treat me fairly."

My stomach curdled at the thought of Eva being a servant. She was too free and too alive to fit in such a role. My eyes flashed to her scars. Curiosity was burning me up and before I could stop myself, I blurted. "How did that happen?"

"What?"

Blushing, I vaguely gestured to my face.

"Oh. Ya mean my scars?"

I nodded, wanting to die. How rude. I should have just said never mind.

She shrugged. "Don't werry about it. Got into a bad situation. Very bad. But 'cept for the occasional bruise or black eye, I was okay. Not happy, mind, but okay. I was alive and that was enough at the time. Then Ashaa—Maraas came along and . . ."

For the first time ever, I saw her cheeks turn a dusty pink. "Are you and Maraas . . . ?"

Foot, meet mouth. But this had been eating me up for a while.

"Are we what?"

"I don't know . . ." I muttered, cheeks red. "Never mind. You don't have to tell me."

But there was a shy smile on Eva's face. "It's alright. I unnerstand yer curiosity. Maraas and I . . . I thought he loved me, once." I blushed a little and felt my heart tug at her wistful tone. "And so did some other people. Ta get to him or maybe ta punish me, they took me. Had a mage burn me here and there and they cut me up . . ." Her hand went to her face, her expression blank. "Not so sure it was love no more, though."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." There was a twisting in my gut and I wanted to vomit. And I felt so _angry_. I wanted to find who did this to her and—and . . . I was somewhat shocked by my violent reaction and the fantasies that played in my head. Disconcerted, I wondered if I was truly so violent . . .

She looked at me. "It's okay. I ain't got nothin' ta be ashamed of. I'm alive and Asha—Maraas is alive and that's all that matters."

I wondered if I'd ever be as strong as Eva or as positive. I sure hoped so. With renewed effort, I scrubbed the clothing, ignoring my hands and the pain they radiated. Eva laughed and challenged me to see who could finish first.

We finished up a while later, with Eva the winner (of course), and delivered the clothing to their owners. By the end of the day, we, or more specifically, _I_ , was exhausted. My thighs cramped from kneeling and my calves burned from all the stairs we had to climb. My hands throbbed and the skin was cracked here and there. Eva had assured me that it happened sometimes, it's what lye soap did. I sighed, wondering how long it would be before I got used to this life. And then I wondered if I'd ever remember anything before waking up on the shore. _When_ , I corrected myself. Eva was positive about my situation, so why shouldn't I be?

Looked up from my hands, I took in my surroundings. Something occurred to me just then. "Eva . . . could you help me get familiar with the layout of the city?"

"Huh. That's probably a good idea. Hmm, I can show ya a little now, but the more thorough tour will hafta wait fer tomorrow."

"Okay."

She suddenly pointed to her right, to the staircase that was absurdly long. A strange contraption that was connected to a pulley system spanned the length of the stairs. I wondered if that was how they used to haul up whatever they had been mining for before. "Down them stairs is the docks and harbor and the way to Darktown. There's another path connecting from Lowtown, but ya listen and ya listen good—ain't no reason fer ya to go down to that place. Only the desperate and the criminal live there. No good will come of ya steppin' into that place. Ya hear?"

"Y-yes."

She eyed me a moment. "Good. Now. The only other thing of interest I can think of is the Qunari compound."

I perked up. "Qunari? Like Maraas?"

"In appearance, yes. But everything else, no. Maraas is a criminal ta that lot and they're duty-bound ta kill him on sight."

"What? Why?" But then I remembered the others Maraas had called Tal-Vashoth and I wasn't so uncertain as to why.

She shrugged. "I don't quite unnerstand it mahself, but it is what it is. They're not . . . bad people, just very . . . rigid in their beliefs and laws. Very black and white, from what I unnerstand. But I've only ever been 'round Maraas. Never actually talked ta the ones still livin' the Qun."

"You said they're in a . . . compound? Like a prison? Are they prisoners here?" I was a bit alarmed. I couldn't say why, exactly, but I was.

"No, not yet anyway. But people fear 'em and fear makes people do crazy things."

"Then they're not from here?"

Eva shook her head. "Definitely not. I think this lot is from Par Vollen. Their ship wrecked and so here they are. Though why they haven't procured a ship and left is beyond me—from what I can tell, they hate it here. Now, listen ta me. I don't have an opinion of them, not really, but my advice is ta avoid them unless ya can't."

I tucked her advice away, but I knew I was going to go against it sooner or later. I suddenly realized that when my curiosity was piqued, I couldn't just let things go. I had to _know_. And what I wanted to know now was what about the Qunari set them apart aside from size and appearance. I wanted to know the answer to why they hadn't left.

We walked on for a while and Eva pointed out things here and there, nothing of too much importance, or so I gathered. We passed by another long, winding staircase. Movement caught my eye and I looked to find a willowy person heading for said stairs. Wow, this person was sleek. How the heck did anyone get that thin? For a split second, I was jealous. But how ridiculous was that? I had way more important matters I needed to focus on other than being jealous that someone was skinnier than me. I would have kept going, until a slash of flesh caught my attention and I froze, staring as the person headed down the stairs.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. No way. My hand went to my own ear and I felt the blunt, rounded crest. _No way_. Feeling a bit giddy, I started following the person. I had to verify, to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks. It never occurred to me that if Maraas and dwarves inhabited this place, that there might be even more different variations that were 'not-human'. A couple times, the person (I still wasn't sure if it was a man or woman), glanced back and seemed to fold in on his/herself. But I didn't really think about it. We reached the bottom of the stairs and the person whirled around—him, it was a him—eyes wide in fear and indignation.

But I was still too focused on his ears. I almost laughed with giddiness. Elf! An actual elf stood before me. Strange, how readily this knowledge came to me whereas dwarf and Qunari were ideas that were sluggish to return or even for me to come to terms with. I smiled. Apparently elves were a source of happiness for me, one way or another. I wondered why.

"I have done nothing, shem!" He spat at me, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

And that's when his fear and indignation hit me. And that's when I also realized I had left Eva's side and now I was in an unfamiliar place, alone. "E-excuse me?" I stuttered.

The elf bared his teeth, but was still shaking. It occurred to me that he was putting on a brave front to hide his fear. But why? I had done nothing to incite either emotion. Okay, I may have creepily stalked him down here, but I hardly think that called for his tone of voice. "I have done nothing to make you follow me here!"

Here? Curious, I looked around. And my heart sank. All around me were hovels, worse than Lowtown, and I hadn't thought that was possible. They were shoved together in an almost haphazard way and all of them were adorned with some kind of paint. And for a moment, I was intrigued at what I was looking at. Here and there was a white deer with twisting horns drawn in a simple pattern; in other places, I saw twisting and incredibly intricate designs, mostly over door or window frames. I didn't miss that most of the windows held no glass nor did I miss that the doorways rarely had an actual door—it seemed either a blanket or nothing at all was used as a door. In the center of all this, was a massive tree. Paint adorned this, too—geometric designs were painted from its upraised roots to a good way up the trunk. At the base were . . . I don't know. There were candles and boxes and various other things, but I had no idea what they were for or could mean.

My eyes had a hard time leaving all the terrible newness around me, but I realized I had yet to say anything to the irate elf. "Um, I . . . I was just curious."

He scoffed and I tore my eyes away to look at him, confused. His face twisted into a sneer. "Came to laugh at our misfortunes, have you?"

I . . . was incredibly confused. In my memory, elves were regal, almost cold in their dignity, not this seething, high-strung, bedraggled man before me. "I have no idea—"

"Leave! You are not wanted here!" He snapped.

I heard gasps and I was startled to realize we had drawn a crowd. A crowd of elves. I took them in and it only took me a moment to realize—they all wore the same haggard appearance, dirt smudging exposed skin and clothing that was worn and torn and dull. Some wore shoes; most did not. None of these elves matched the image in my head and I was so confused. If anything, they appeared exhausted and down-trodden. They looked weary and wary and so incredibly angry, like I was intruding on their territory. And they looked ready to take things into hand. I took a step back, gulping, a hand traveling to the knife tucked away near my waist.

"Haras! Be careful what you say!" Someone hissed.

The man, Haras, snarled. "They must know they cannot order us about in our own home."

Someone grabbed Haras' arm tightly. It was an elderly man, and again, I was confused. In my memory, elves didn't age, not like this. And they most certainly weren't 'ordered' about by anyone. I was beginning to wonder if my memory was faulty or distorted. Obviously, something had gone wrong. "You are being reckless. Think of the rest of us! If you wish to be killed, so be it, but do not drag the innocent into your futile efforts."

Haras yanked his arm away, his mouth in a tight line. Glaring at me, he turned and left, the crowd swallowing him up. Even with the angry one gone, my heart didn't let up its frantic rhythm, but my hand did drop from my weapon.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

The older man raised his eyebrows. "Sorry? No one says 'sorry' to an elf."

"What the heck is going on!" I blurted. "None of this makes sense!"

Some of the elves flinched and backed up from her outburst.

"Emma!" I quickly turned, relief washing through me as Eva reached the bottom of the steps and came to my side. "Ya gave me such a fright! Why in the world did ya wonder off?" She demanded.

"Sorry, I . . . don't know what I was thinking." I admitted.

She grabbed ahold of me and urged me to climb the long stairway once again. She glanced furtively behind us and exhaled loudly when we were a good distance away. "Thank the Maker. Ya wandered into a dangerous area."

"Yeah, I got that." I said dryly. But what I wanted to know was why. In my memory, elves dwelled in forests or glorious structures and were polite and dignified. Not . . . whatever that was. "What was that place?" I finally asked when we got to the place I'd wondered off from.

"It's the Elf Alienage."

"What the heck is an Alienage?"

"It's where elves live." I was getting a sick feeling. The Circle for mages, the Qunari 'compound' and now an elf 'Alienage'? And then there was Darktown, Lowtown, and Hightown. What the hell? The word 'segregation' popped into my head. And that's what this was. Separating and dehumanizing those that were different.

I snapped to a halt. "This city is—is so messed up!" I wanted to pull my hair, to rant and rave.

"It's not perfect, no." Eva breathed. I didn't know what to say. I, for sure, wanted to hit something, hard, but I wanted to cry even more. Eva took my hand. "Let's go home and sleep. Tomorrow we will rise early as we did today."

I deflated and, defeated, followed behind Eva. After all, what in the world could I do to change any of this in my current state? Nothing, that's what.


	7. Chapter 7: A Faint Hope

_So, HEADS UP. This chapter has some swearing and violence. Kind of an M rating, then? Anyway. Proceed with caution haha. Also, this is a long one. Brace yourselves._

 _As always, Dragon Age and its characters do not belong to me. The only thing that I own is Emma and her story._

 _Please read and review._

* * *

 **Chapter 7: A Faint Hope**

 _Cutting, jagged, tearing._

 _Pain. So much pain._

 _Shhhh. Let it go._

 _Fade away._

 _A voice, slithering like a snake, encroaching like moss, like a disease._

 _Slick and vile and sickening._

 _"Your terrors are mine."_

 _A shadow expanded, swallowed the world._

 _"And they make me strong!"_

 _Reached for my head, through my head, into my head._

 _Hands grabbed and jerked and tore._

* * *

 _The scene tore into a new one and I fell sideways as the world shifted and now the floor was to my right. I groaned as I pulled myself up, shivering partly because of the horror I had just escaped and partly because it was cold, wherever I was at now. My confusion and fear melded and, predictably, turned into anger._

 _"What the hell!" I shouted. "What is this place? Why does it keep doing that?"_

 _I looked every which way, but it was weird. It was like two images were layered on top of one another. On one layer, I saw buildings, I think belonging to Kirkwall, but on another layer was the weird place I had seen several other times, the one with green skies and land features that shouldn't be possible. It was disconcerting and it made my head hurt._

 _Movement caught my eye and I turned to find a mirror. It was . . . creepy looking, with jagged bordering. Curious, I found myself heading to look at it, inspecting its border until I was close enough and my eyes slid to the reflection._

 _A straggled sound came out of my throat._

 _A woman with smoky, almost purple skin looked back. She smiled beatifically and reached for me. Without knowing what I was doing, I was leaning forward. Her face instantly contorted once I was close enough and her hand grabbed my throat, choking me._

* * *

I jerked awake, panting and sweating. But I wasn't panicked or terrified as I expected to be. Instead, I was insanely calm. Which was what caused me to panic. The walls were closing in on me, suffocating me, squeezing me until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I shot to my feet and ran out of the house.

I stumbled until I fell onto my knees which protested the harsh treatment. Automatically, I started my breathing exercises. In through the mouth, out through the nose. Deep, deep, gotta pull the air in deep. It was just a dream. Dreams couldn't hurt me, meant nothing. Breathe, breathe.

"Emma?" Eva was by my side, rubbing my back. "Are you sick?"

I shook my head. "D-dream." I choked out.

"A bad dream? Again?" She sounded worried. "What did ya dream about?"

"I don't know." I wailed. "But it was terrifying."

Eva soothed me until I was calm and rolled back onto my heels. I wiped my eyes. "Sorry. Is it time for us to go?"

Eva gave me a look, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's wash yer face, break our fast, then head ta The Hanged Man."

"Okay."

* * *

Donovan and Eva spoke a few words away from me and came back friends once more. Donovan then left for the market, saying he ran out of something and needed more. Thank God. I didn't know if I could handle all that tension for as long as we were going to be here for.

I was happy to note, as we set to work, that I was doing a lot better today. I still cut my fingers here and there—once it was bad enough that Eva had to find bandages and wrap my hand. Eva kept shooting me concerned looks, particularly when I rubbed my eyes, but I ignored her. Not that I didn't appreciate the concern, but, come on. They were just dreams. My subconscious was probably absorbing all my fear and confusion and everything else and turning them into nightmares. It happened. I just wish they weren't quite so . . . crazy.

"Good mornin', Serah Eva. Good mornin', Serah Emma. Ya both are lookin' lovely today."

"Morning, Corff." I pasted on a smile and shot it in the young man's direction.

"So I heard from ol' Donovan that ya lost yer memory."

It was obviously directed at me, but I didn't want to take my eyes off the potato I was peeling. I nodded.

"Well, ain't that somethin'? But, hey, mehbe I got some info that ya'll find useful."

That sounded like more than a maybe. I jerked my head up. Eva was watching him just as closely. "What're ya on about?"

"Ah. Well, see, I want to tell ya more, honest, I do. But nothin's fer free."

Eva eyed him. "Corff, ya little weasel. What'd'ya want?"

Corff's eyes slid to me and I raised my eyebrows. "How about a kiss from Serah Emma?"

My mouth dropped open and Eva spluttered. But it turns out she found the proposition more hilarious than inappropriate. A blush heated my face and I scowled. "What the hell?" I muttered.

"Aw, come on. I ain't that bad lookin', am I?" He grinned and I couldn't top the smile that forced its way onto my face. I shook my head in disbelief.

"You're a flirt."

"Aw, ya found me out. Still, I'd say a kiss is fair cheap for what I gotta say."

I gave a short laugh. "Fine. Come here." I crooked a finger at him and, excitedly, he came forward.

"Emma!" This time, Eva sounded shocked.

I shot her a look, then turned my attention back to Corff. I gave him my best smile and stood up. He was certainly eager as he leaned down without hesitation. I struck with lightning speed. I grabbed his ear and twisted and he yelped as he clasped my arm.

"Yow! Ow ow ow! Why're ya yankin' on mah ear?" He wailed.

"Sorry. My kisses aren't for barter. And shame on your for thinking I'd exchange one for information."

"Okay! Okay! Leggo of mah ear!"

I gave his ear a squeeze, then let go. He stumbled back, clasping his red ear in indignation. Eva was laughing.

"Teach ya to be so randy."

"I was just askin' fer a kiss, not a tumble in the hay." He grumbled.

"Corff!"

Then Corf smiled and laughed. "But that'll teach me to be more careful, hey?"

To be honest, I was kinda apprehensive now. Would he still tell us whatever he had found out? I mean, I had only met the guy yesterday and only for a few moments. He must have seen my worried look, and his features softened.

"Don't ya fret. I'll tell ya what info I gathered despite bein' cheated on mah price." He sat down cross-legged in front of us. "Ya know Master Varric?" This was directed at Eva.

"Mostly by name'n reputation. Only saw him once or maybe twice."

"Well, Master Varric and that Hawke feller are friends. Good friends, far as I can see. Messere Hawke and his companions visit here often and I've gotten to know them somewhat. From what I can gather, that Hawke feller has that healer from Darktown."

"What healer?" Eva asked. Then she muttered, "More'n more them mages are runnin' about." Then she shook her head. "We can't afford a healer, ya know that."

"That's just it. There was rumors sayin' there was a man down in Darktown what would heal a man fer free. Never needed him, so I dun have a clue if it's true, but it appears that rumored man is with that Hawke feller now. And I heard the man is good at what he does. Mayhap he could help with what ails ya, Serah Emma. Look into that head o' yers and help ya."

The hope that swelled inside me almost made me delirious. "Really?" I breathed,

Eva looked a bit more skeptical. "Fer free? He heals fer free? I find that hard ta believe."

"Like I said, its mainly rumor, but it's worth a shot, innit? I mean, better'n nothin', right?"

I couldn't contain myself. "Where can we find this healer?"

"Well, one of two ways, I suspect. Rumor has it ya look for the lit lanterns down in Darktown and ya'll find his place of healin'."

"Out of the question." Eva stated coldly.

"Well, then, that leaves ya option two. He comes here often enough in accompaniment of Messere Hawke. But I wouldn't call his appearance predictable. Hit or miss, really. Ya'd have to stay all day ta make sure ya didn't miss him."

"Oh." I looked to Eva, but I knew that staying all day at The Hanged Man was out of the question. But then I started thinking. "Do you . . . need help around the tavern? Something I can do that will allow me to stay here all day and still be paid?"

Corff shrugged. "Always stuff to be done, but I don't hire. That's Donovan's prerogative." Then he turned thoughtful. "However, one of our barmaids went and disappeared. Hasn't been around for a while, now. Wonderin' if that man who was courtin' her whisked her away. But I'm gettin' off subject. Just ask Donovan. I'm sure he'd hire ya . . . with some persuasion."

He winked at Eva.

* * *

Eva was amazing. I have no idea how she did it, what with Donovan being so dead-set against me working as a barmaid, but he eventually gave in and was currently pouting in a corner. She smiled at me, then turned worried.

"Ya unnerstand, I won't be here with ya. I have other things I gotta do, but I'll be back 'round ta pick ya up sometime after sunset, ta show ya home." She turned to Corff, who was still rubbing his head from being cuffed by Donovan. "Ya watch out fer her, ya hear?"

Corff nodded, wincing.

She turned back to me. "Ya be careful. Men get handsy with ya, ya don't let it stand."

Um. That worried me a little, but the very idea that someone would try to touch me inappropriately set a fire in my gut. "I'll put them in their place." I promised.

Eva gave a short laugh. "I don't doubt it. Alright. I'll be seein' ya later."

With that, Eva gave me a final worried look before leaving. With her gone, I suddenly felt very small in a very big world. Kind of overwhelming, but I took calming breaths. I walked out to where Corff was currently attending to his bar. I took in the eating area. To one side was a good sized hearth and above the tables and chairs that seemed to have been placed with no rhyme or reason, were worn, torn, and ratty looking gold-bordered, red tapestries that connected to the bar. To my far left were stairs that lead to a second level. I wondered where that led to.

Geez, but this place could use some color. Other than the dull red tapestries, the place was pretty brown. To be honest, this place looked pretty run down, but in a kind of used way, not because of neglect or misuse (or maybe it did but I didn't really know what that looked like). Donovan entered behind me, covered in flour. Him and Corff told me exactly what was expected of me—I needed to deliver meals and beverages to patrons and also clean up after some, here and in the living quarters (which I learned was up the stairs).

"It gets crowded in 'ere. Ya gotta 'ave yer wits about ya, otherwise ya could dump a drink on someone's 'ead and that's bad fer business."

I nodded, taking in everything they were telling me and made sure I repeated it over and over in my head so I couldn't forget a single word. Corff told me about the policy they had concerning alcohol and drunkenness as well as the types of alcohol they served. Donovan gruffly told me that they had a three, sometime four, item menu to choose from if they wanted something to eat. Surprisingly, I got the same speech from Donovan as I had from Eva.

"Our patrons ain't the best of the lot sometimes. Sometimes they can get handsy. Yer very pretty and, well . . . ya let us know if'n anyone touches ya inappropriately. We'll get Barden to 'aul out any unruly ones. Barden is our muscle and will be 'ere shortly."

He actually looked pretty worried about me. I gave him a reassuring smile, feeling brave all by myself for the first time in a long while. "I will. Um, can I ask who I should be looking out for?"

Corff stepped in. "Well, the supposed healer is blonde. Average looking, I suppose. But there's no mistakin' Messere Hawke or Messere Varric. Messere Varric is one of'a handful of dwarves that patron this tavern. No mistakin' Messere Hawke, though. He's a big man, well-built fer a supposed mage. Got an air 'about him. Hard to explain. He acts like a jokester, but I've seen him turn fierce in the blink of an eye." Corff shivered. "Ya just stay on his good side, yeah?"

"Um, right." I remembered how, just yesterday, I had decided to avoid this Hawke guy, but here I was, the next morning, eagerly looking forward to meeting the man. Well, meeting the man he was friends with. I almost wanted to laugh.

"Alright, enough chit-chattin'. To work with ya." Donovan huffed.

* * *

Holy crap, they weren't kidding when they said it could get crowded in here. Or that I would need to learn to maneuver around so many people. People who were rowdy, despite the time of day. But I learned something interesting about myself—I was pretty sure footed and agile. More than a couple times I was sure I would fall over, but instead my body caught myself and I somehow saved myself from a bad fall.

More than a couple times a few men whistled at me or noted that I was new and pretty to look at, but so far, no one had tried to grab at me as I had been warned about. At one point, Corff waved me off to the bar and I almost had to dance to not trip over anyone to get to him.

"Sit down." He urged. "Ya look exhausted and ya've been workin' hard. Here."

He placed a cup in front of me and without thinking, I downed it. My eyes widened and watered as the liquid burned my throat and smacked into my stomach. I slammed the cup down and coughed, smacking my chest. Corff chuckled.

"What? Never had liquor afore?"

"No!" At least, not that I remembered and that wasn't saying much at all right now. After the shock wore off, I screwed my face up at the taste. "What the hell is that stuff?" I demanded.

Corff grinned. "Secret recipe of The Hanged Man."

"It tastes like shit!" I scrapped at my tongue, desperate to wipe it off.

Corff laughed harder. I hardly saw what was so funny, but then I was pulled away and was back to working. I also quickly learned something else about me—I loved to work. It took my mind off of my troubles and I got a sense of accomplishment I hadn't experienced since I woke up here. Granted, it was a temporary distraction, but it helped me feel better.

As the day wore on and I kept an eager eye out for any of the men I was looking for, I couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, I would be paid for all this. Better be more than five coins, that's for sure.

Day started slipping into night and the crowd shifted into a seedier lot. These particular patrons looked rough and like life had beaten lessons into their skin. There was one man who had a face full of tattoos. I found myself staring at the swirling images, wondering what they meant, if they meant anything at all. Here's where I began running into problems. The hem of my dress was tugged at and I nearly fell over from the unexpected resistance. I turned around, glaring, but didn't find a specific person to glare at. Huffing, I went about my business.

The next instance, someone pinched my butt. I yelped in surprise and whirled around as the man who did it laughed drunkenly. "Keep your hands to yourself!" I snapped.

Again, violent images assaulted me, but I took a deep breath and restrained myself. Butt pinching, though definitely not welcomed, was no reason to gouge out a person's eyes. Yet. I found myself dodging a lot of hands. But it was harder to dodge the words thrown my way.

I was beginning to develop a tick in my eye at my suppressed rage.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Corff watching me carefully. Somewhat reassured by this, and the fact that Barden (a mountain of a man) wasn't far off, quelled any of my fear and emboldened me. I started up the mantra, _sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me_ over and over. I tuned out the jeers and rather rude comments and got pretty good at dodging the reaching hands, a smile pasted on my face.

As the night wore on, I was slowly starting to lose hope of seeing any of my quarry tonight. Every time someone entered the tavern, I'd perk up but be let down by what I saw. As it was, it was reaching the middle of the night and there were only a handful patrons still hanging around The Hanged Man. A couple were simply passed out drunk.

Sighing, I sat down on a stool at the bar, feeling a bit defeated.

"Hm. I'm wonderin' if Messere Varric and Messere Hawke left the city fer somethin'. Now that I'm thinkin' about it, Messere Varric hasn't been about here fer a while now." Corff mulled over.

I grunted. "Perfect."

Corff patted me reassuringly on the shoulder. "Dun be so down about it. They live in the city, don't they? They'll be back, and soon, I should say."

"Hmm."

"Emma." I lifted my head to find Donovan handing me a pouch. Realizing it was my pay for the day, I perked up and took the pouch from him. Inside, I found a few copper pieces and two silvers. "For this morning and for tonight. You did surprisingly well."

I gave Donovan my best smile, proud that I had gotten a compliment from him. "Thanks."

"Hm."

It wasn't long after when Eva turned up to collect me. Like a child, I proudly showed her the money I earned and she praised me for a good job. I didn't fail to see how ridiculous this all must look and was a little embarrassed.

"Well, we best be off." Eva announced.

Donovan waved dismissively as he left the room and Corff waved enthusiastically. "See ya tomorrow, Emma!"

I waved back and followed Eva home. Once there, Eva handed me a small box with a lid where I could stash my money supply. For some reason, though I was disappointed that I hadn't been able to talk to the healer, I found hope warming me once again. I could make it in this world. It would be hard, no doubt, but I could do it. I wasn't completely incompetent. I had people supporting me in a world that seemed intent to prey upon the weak.

Tightening my hands into fists, I hardened my resolve.

I could do this.

* * *

The next day proved to be much the same as the day before. I asked if Emma could stay and work alongside me, but Donovan had been emphatic that he didn't have enough money to hire another person. And Eva had said it was alright—she had been asked for by a noble to do some sewing. She had said that she knew how to make her way already and not to worry. Yeah, like that was possible. I worried about her the entire time I worked at tavern.

Five days passed and The Hanged Man seemed to always be busy. It was almost amusing how the shift from day to night always brought a shift of the characters that patroned the tavern. However, I didn't feel too threatened. I had gotten to know Barden, the hired muscle, somewhat. He was quiet and a mountain of a man. He made sure that I was left alone if things got a bit too out of hand—I always felt his eyes watching out for me. Last night, he had even patted me on the head, saying I was a hard worker and that I reminded him a lot of his sister. He didn't smile, but I could tell it was a compliment by his tone. I think I liked the man.

As I worked, I learned a lot, too, just by keeping my ears open and acting friendly. Apparently the Qunari weren't welcomed by something—an organization?—called the Chantry and that tensions were rising. I learned that some of the people weren't even from Kirkwall, but from other countries called Rivain or Orlais or Antiva. None of those names sounded familiar and there was a lot I didn't quite understand, but I made sure to ask all about them.

I decidedly did not like Orlais, or at least their government, at least from what I gathered by word of mouth. Antiva sounded like an . . . acquired taste. Rivain sounded incredibly exotic. None of them called to me like Ferelden did, however. I liked the majority of down to earth, if somewhat rough, people that called it home. I found myself wondering if I'd ever have a chance to go there.

Interesting information aside, I was getting fairly discouraged concerning finding and talking to that healer. Eva outright refused to allow me to go down to Darktown and I was starting to wonder if there was another reason Eva avoided the place. But I didn't push it, deferring to her judgement considering my lack of information and experience.

I was getting tired of the nightmares, though. I hardly, if ever, remembered them clearly, but I always remembered how I felt. And it was never good. I wasn't sleeping well, but I didn't let on about it. Any time I did, Eva seemed weirdly concerned about me and my dreams. And I was determined to not let it affect my work. Or at least, I tried. There were a couple times when I had narrowly avoided tipping a mug over or tripping over my own feet.

Corff expressed his concern, but I assured him I was fine.

And once again, I was disappointed—there had been no sign of Hawke or the healer or Varric. I was actually beginning to worry. Had something happened to them? I worried more because of the selfish reason that if something had happened to the healer, then there went my one chance at regaining my lost memories. To be honest, I was getting fairly frustrated with myself. Late at night, when I should have been sleeping, I would try and remember something, anything, but all I ever got was a headache.

The door to the tavern opened and, automatically, my eyes went to search out the newcomers. I froze, my heart beating so hard in my chest I thought it would break some ribs. Beardo. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I had kinda wondered when they would pop up, but I guess I had gotten somewhat complacent since they hadn't shown themselves in the five or six days since me and Maraas had run into them. I had hoped Maraas had been wrong, paranoid even, about them. Guess not.

And of course they would come when most of the patrons had left, leaving me no bodies to hide behind or get lost in or even have as a barrier between me and them. Beardo had been saying something to a guy to his left, but when he turned his head, he immediately saw me. Recognition immediately flashed across his face, followed by a smirk and calculating look that had my gut clenching.

"Well, well, well, lookie here." He said, sounding amused. "Where's your bodyguard, girl? Got bored and left you, did he?"

Barden, who had been dozing in the corner against a wall, perked up. His eyes trailed between me, stock still, to the men who had just entered. He straightened and headed to the group of men. My stomach knotted, anxiety riddling me.

"Barden, stop." I choked out. I didn't have a good feeling about what was going to happen next. I looked desperately for Corff, but he was in the back doing something with Donovan—I think looking for something in the cellar.

Barden either didn't hear me or heed me. "If yer lookin' to start trouble, ya ain't welcome."

Beardo gave Barden an innocent look. "Just having a friendly conversation with the girl there."

Barden wasn't having any of it and stood between me and Beardo, towering over the lithe man. The bouncer scowled and a hand went to the sword on his hip. Beardo didn't miss it and for a split second a look crossed his face that made me shiver. "I can smell trouble on ya. Leave."

Any remaining patrons that could think coherently scurried out past Beardo and his gang.

Beardo smiled and raised his hands in defeat.

I took a shaky step forward. "Barden—!"

I screamed when one of Beardo's men lunged forward and drove a dagger into Barden's gut. Barden gasped, his hand drawing his sword out a fraction, before both went to his stomach, looking at it in shock. He staggered forward and grabbed onto Beardo's front, clenching the fabric in his fists. Beardo snarled, raising a fist and then slamming it into Barden's face. I watched in horror as Barden fell with a sickening thud and thrashed. Beardo was brushing off his shirt, like he was brushing off dirt.

"Barden!" I screeched, my eyes fixed on the dying man.

"Should have stayed with the Tal-Vashoth, girl." Beardo said nonchalantly.

My eyes flashed to him and a rage started burning me. "You bastard!"

He shrugged. "I've been called worse. Qunari lover or not, you'll still fetch a pretty sovereign. Even after I pay you back for my face. Boys?"

His men started heading towards me, edging around the tables. They acted like I wasn't going to fight back. Like hell I wasn't! I grabbed a chair and lunged forward at the one closest to me, slamming it into the surprised man's face. I had to make a split decision then. Head to the living area or head out through the kitchen. Seeing that trying to escape into the kitchen would put me in a convenient catching distance, I bolted up the stone steps, hearing them give chase.

I didn't know this area very well, but I didn't let myself stop for a second. As I ran through the dirty and sometimes dilapidated hallways, a high window with some barrels under it caught my attention. It was small and narrow, but it was my best bet. I clambered onto the barrels and grabbed ahold of the edge of the window, pulling myself up. That's when I found out that my arms were going to have a hard time pulling my weight up and out. Come on!

I screamed as arms wrapped around my torso, yanking me down. I flattened my feet against the wall and pushed back with all my might. We went flying and the man grunted as I landed on top of him. He still had a hold of me, though. Panicked, I slammed my head back and I heard him yell out in pain, an elbow jabbing into a soft part of his side.

"Maker's balls! Someone grab the bitch!"

Two more men leaned down and each one grabbed an arm. I flung myself around, not even thinking logically—I had completely turned myself over to my primitive side in my panic. Another man had had enough and I gasped as he threw a fist into my stomach, winding me. He hit my solar plexus, the term flying into my head. I had trouble getting my breath back and in my limp state, they drug me back to the main area as I weakly tried to drag my feet and pull back.

Wheezing, I spotted movement and felt myself pale when I saw Corff being hit over the head and collapsing into a heap. I was just glad they hadn't killed him. But then I wondered where Donovan was. Next, my eyes went to Barden. He was still, so so so still. Blood was pooled under and around him and he was twitching. My heart tore. No, no, no, no. Please, _please_ , don't die.

Next my eyes went to a smirking Beardo and a wave anger washed over me, renewing my struggle. "You son of a bitch! How could you? How could you!"

"Easily. Now, did you really think you'd escape us? Stupid girl." He came up to me and I gasped as his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. He tightened his hold and I found it difficult to breathe. I shot to my feet out and felt instant gratification as one foot connected with his groin.

He immediately let go of me, cupping himself as he wheezed. Just as quickly, a fist from the one of the men holding me connected with my gut. Not so satisfying was how fast Beardo recovered. His hand went back around my throat and his grip was even tighter, rage contorting his face. "Wrong move, girl." He grabbed a dagger at his hip and drew it out, placing it at my throat. I stilled as I felt the cold metal against my throat. "How should I punish you?" He wondered aloud.

I felt yet another shiver run down my spine at how he eyed me up and down.

He leered at me. "Hm. Might have damaged the goods. Gotta make sure it still works, don't you think? And who better to verify, than you?" I paled as I immediately understood. Fuck that! I started struggling again but stopped when I felt warm liquid start dribbling down my throat. "Come now. You've fucked a Qunari. If anything, you should be grateful that a man would have you after such shame. Hold her down."

I screamed as the ones holding me threw me down, my head slamming onto the floor, and restrained me. One of them yelped when a hand got too close to my mouth and I bit down, drawing blood. The other slapped me hard, disorienting me.

"Careful!" Beardo snapped. "Damaged goods don't sell as much, you idiot."

"I'll kill you!" I yelled.

Beardo rolled his eyes as his hand went to the drawstrings of his pants. "Yes, yes. Strangely, I've been threatened like that many times and yet, here I am, alive."

"Strange, indeed. You look like a dead man to me."

Beardo whirled around, brandishing his dagger. I looked past him and saw a very short, and I mean short, stout man with blond hair and . . . a lot of chest hair. He held a dagger himself, looking amused but there was fire in his eyes. Three more people stepped in behind him. But a gurgling, wet sound caught my attention and I looked at Beardo to find blood coating his lips and streaming from his mouth.

"How—?"

"Called a stiletto. So sharp and thin, it can slice through skin and between ribs and right back out and the person never knows. They bleed out internally. Just like you."

Beardo gasped, spitting blood, struggling to stand, but his legs wouldn't let him. The men holding me shot to their feet and joined their companions as they backed away, swords and others weapons drawn and aimed at the new arrivals. A soon as I was free, I crawled around Beardo and went to Barden's side. I sat up and grabbed a hold of him, turning him over onto his back, laying his head on my lap. I sobbed and pressed my hand into his stomach, desperate to stop the blood flow as his lifeless body gave its death throes.

Beardo was coughing up blood as the short man's company swiftly went to action. A very tall man—no, elf—with white hair lit up, but I had to be seeing that wrong. I had hit my head when I had been forced down and then slapped. The tall elf didn't even draw his weapon, but relied on his bare hands which bore claws, but that had to be wrong. I watched in shock, and a little bit of awe, as he easily dodged his opponents swings and shot his hand out as it glowed fiercely, piercing the man's chest. But how was that possible? How . . . ? The other man in the party—what was my eyes seeing? He wielded a walking stick—staff?—with a blade on one end, deflecting melee attacks in the most graceful and fluid manner I'd ever seen as fire shot from his outstretched hand or raced down his staff. But there was something else hovering over him, reminding me of that layered image from the nightmare not too long ago. The short man rained arrows down from a powerful crossbow while the last person, another man with gold hair and yet another staff, raced to my side.

Belatedly, I realized who these people were. Hawke had to be the man with the black hair and beard, a fierce smile splitting his face, and Varric was the short man—dwarf, I corrected myself—and the man before me, asking me something that I couldn't hear, had to be the healer. My vision was blackening around the edges and turning into pinpricks.

"Barden . . ." I think was the last thing I said before I fainted.


	8. Chapter 8: Exceptional

_***I revised the chapter and it has completely been rewritten, so make sure to re-read this chapter! Also, it's much longer._

 _As always, Dragon Age= not mine. Emma and other OCs = mine._

 _Please read and review. Critiques welcome._

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Exceptional . . . Whatever THAT Means**

 _"What are you?"_

 _I opened my eyes and jerked to a kneeling position. My eyes found the owner of the voice and I was somewhat awed by what I saw. A flaming, red and gold figure stood before me. But I quickly remembered what happened—Barden, dead, in my hands. Death all around me._

 _Grief overwhelmed me and guilt consumed me. Barden wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for me. I'd gotten too complacent, too forgetful of how dangerous this place was._

 _"Leave me, you infernal thing!" I cried._

 _"We are no demon, if that is what you mean." He sounded reassuring even with his booming voice, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be left alone and wallow in my grief. "You are drawing unwanted visitors, girl."_

 _Confused, I looked around. Shadowy creatures were starting to gather and form around us and every one of them emitted a vibe that seemed to make my negative emotions even worse._

 _"Go away!" I shrieked, scooting away until I was at the flaming figure's feet._

 _"They come for you." Extending a hand, the air warped and sparked and then a light of sorts enveloped each shadow, making them shriek and evaporate. The flaming man turned to me. "They will be back unless you control your emotions. Calm yourself."_

 _Almost instantly, I was doing my breathing exercises, taking deep breathes and thinking about something else, something calming, something soothing._

 _"Good. Now, we must attend to you. You are injured." I was? It was just then that I felt warm liquid trickling down my throat and by my side. Noticing my rising panic, the creature said, "It is nothing fatal. But the sooner it is cared for, the better."_

 _Nodding and somewhat unsure, the creature knelt and then a hand reached for me, towards the center of my chest. His hand began glowing a cleansing green light, but the moment he tried to place it on me, he was flung back._

 _Shocked, I looked at where the creature collided with the ground and then recouped, sitting up and his body flaring into a bright light. Everything about him radiated shock and confusion._

 _"What are you?" He demanded._

* * *

"Slavers." Fenris snarled as he squatted and turned one of the bodies over, looking at a marking on the dead man's neck. Disgusted, the elf shoved the body away and stood.

"I'm gone for one week and this is what I return to, in my home of all places?" Varric grumbled. A heavy hand patted him on the shoulder. Garrett Hawke grinned, winking at his friend.

"No worries. Now that you're back, you just gotta piss all over the place to mark your territory and no one will come sniffing. And you, stop scowling. You can't possibly tell me it didn't tickle you pink to take out some slavers."

The elf gave a fierce smile and Varric placed a hand over his heart. "Maker, Broody. Don't just go and do that. You'll give me a heart attack and have all the ladies fainting from delighted shock."

The elf scoffed and moved off, checking the corpses and then taking coin and random things from their bodies. Garrett shook his head, smiling. Varric went off to check on his bartender and Garrett went to check in on Anders and his work. The mage was aglow as he concentrated on healing the girl and her injuries, the dead man already set aside. She had a cut along her neck and a few scrapes and bruises here and there. Nothing fatal. Squatting, he inspected the girl they had saved. Garrett raised his eyebrows in surprise.

She was easy on the eyes, what most likely drew the slavers' attention in the first place. But what intrigued Hawke was her overall appearance. Just . . . healthy. Healthy skin, healthy hair, and healthy weight. He pulled back her lips a bit and whistled. Nice teeth too. Where had she come from? Her clothes suggested she was just another commoner, but everything else suggested a higher upbringing.

Suddenly, there was a flare of magic and emotion from the other side, from the Fade and Hawke's eyes slid to the healer. Vengeance was raising its head and Hawke grew slightly concerned. What in the world would draw out that creature when the mage was simply healing a patient? Gurgling sounds made him look over his shoulder to see the leader of the pack of mongrels choking on his blood, still not dead yet.

Getting up, the mage stood over the slaver, staff in hand as he watched the man indifferently. Then a grin slid over his face. "How's death treating you?"

The dying piece of shit glared at Hawke, but of course said nothing, his lungs too full of blood for anything besides spitting the fluid at Hawke's feet. Hawke tsked. "Too well, by my measure." He brought his staff so the blade rested over the man's throat. "Be glad that I am merciful, you piece of shit."

Before he could finish off the dying monster, a gasp made him jerk, missing his mark. Hawke turned to look at Anders, who was now leaning back on his hands, breathing heavy. What was this all about? Pulling his staff blade free of the ground and ignoring the dying man's gurgling last breaths, Hawke went to his friend.

"Anders? What's the matter?"

Hawke noted the healer was visibly paler and looked shaken up. Realizing he was sweating, Anders wiped his forehead and sat up. "I can't heal her."

Hawke blinked in surprise. "And what do you mean by that?"

Anders gave the bearded man an exasperated look. "Shall I draw it out for you? _I can't heal her_."

"Well, why not?" First he had ever heard of Anders not being able to heal someone. "Does she have some sort of charm on her to ward against magic?"

Anders shook his head. "I can't find anything no. I've never encountered this before. I tried to heal her, but the moment that I tried to imbue her with healing magic, she . . . it was like it just bounced off her or her body repelled it. I have no words to accurately describe it."

"Hm." Hawke rubbed his chin thoughtfully, studying the prone girl. "Is she a Templar?" _That_ wasn't a pleasant option, to say the least. Not that her being one of the gits would change his actions, but . . .

"No. Justice would have let me know. And besides, even Templars cannot reject magic while unconscious. It is something they must be aware of."

"Strange." Hawke closed his eyes and concentrated. He sensed the flare of Ander's erratic mana, but sensed nothing from the position of the girl. No mana, nothing at all, really. The best way he could word it was thus: it was like the air itself was bending around her, like where he lay was a blank space. Usually he could sense the life essence of everyone around him—all mage could do it. It was the reason some fell so easily to blood magic—life essence had just as strong a pull as mana. This was all very strange and even a bit disturbing. Opening his eyes, Hawke furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "And I sense nothing form here. No mana, no life . . ." Hawke even double-checked to make sure she was still breathing, still alive, but the steady up and down of her chest was reassured him she lived.

"None. She is not a mage, that is for certain." Anders agreed, then he laughed. "The sort of people that are drawn to you are unique, to say the least."

Hawke grunted. The healer was right there. A Guard Captain; an ex-slave with lyrium tattoos; a runaway Warden, possessed by a spirit; a shipless, loose pirate; a blood mage; a dwarf that spun stories as easily as he breathed . . . yes. He found and kept interesting company. Really, he was more surprised that he _was_ surprised to find yet another oddity plopping itself in his life.

Sighing, Hawke rubbed his neck, feeling how tense his body was. His eye was momentarily drawn back to the girl and, more specifically, the wounds on her body. They weren't fatal, but infection could set in and prove fatal or debilitating later on. Movement drew his eye as Fenris tossed the last body out front. "Fenris. Do you have an extra healing salve on you? I do believe I used the last of mine on the road."

The elf gave the girl a cursory glance, then fished in his hip pouch for the bottle. He strode over to Hawke, keeping as much distance as possible between him and healer (and casting him a nasty look for good measure) before handing over the salve.

"Thank you."

The elf grunted and stood aside, keeping alert to their surroundings.

"Maker, but mah head!"

Both healer and Hawke turned to find Varric's bartender using the bar as leverage to stand, clutching his head and wincing. He looked uncertainly around as Varric patted him on the back.

"Easy now. You've got a nice little egg on your head."

"Egg . . . that's right. Those bastards hit me on mah head!" His eyes widened in alarm. "Emma! They were goin' after Emma!"

"Emma? You mean this here girl?" Hawke gestured to the girl. He quickly turned to Anders. "Here. Tend to her. I want to speak with Corff." Anders nodded and set to work.

Corff gulped the moment he spotted the girl. "Maker's breath! She ain't . . . is she?"

Hawke shook his head as he approached the rattled man, sitting on the stool and leaning so his elbows rested on the counter. "No. Just unconscious. She's a little banged up, but she'll live. I . . . can't say the same for your man in the corner."

His eyes immediately found Barden. "Maker, Barden, no." He sighed. He was used to death, as were they all. Though he lamented the man's death, he couldn't find it in himself to dwell on it for too long. Death was as much a part of life as the air they breathed. "He was a good man." Corff finally said, not knowing what else there was to say.

"Hm. Now, tell me, that girl on the floor, her name is Emma?" Hawk inquired. Varric stood, leaning against the edge of the bar as he listened intently. The dwarf hadn't missed the gasp of shock or whispers of surprise between the two mages and he most certainly was going to find out what had caught Blondie and Hawke's attention.

Corff nodded. "That's right."

"And where does she hail from? She doesn't look like a Kirkwaller."

Corff suddenly looked uncertain. "I'm not sure if'n its mah place to . . ."

Hawke spread his hands out wide and leaned back, showing he had nothing to hide. "Corff. We've known each other a while. I mean your Emma no harm, but I need to know the answers to my questions."

The bartender sighed. "Well, I don't know. But neither does she. Where she comes from, I mean."

Hawke blinked. "What?"

"She washed up on the Wounded Coast not so long ago. She don't remember nothin' of her past. Actually, that's why she was workin' here." Corff's eyes slid to Hawke's left, notifying the man that someone was next to him. Just a light expanding of his conscious told him it was Anders. "She was lookin' fer ya. She was hopin' ya could help her regain what she lost."

Anders crossed his arms, shaking his head. He himself did not know how much he wanted to reveal to Corff of their discovery, for surely this man would not know the secret she held. "This sounds like a head injury. What magic I do know that pertains to healing the mind will be useless on her. Time will eventually heal."

"Oh . . . she won't be happy to hear that."

Hawke was only half listening. She just washed up one day? And she didn't and still doesn't know her past? How peculiar. His curiosity was piqued and he had never denied it answers before. He glanced over at the girl again and was curious to find the elf looking her over. Actually, her case sounded somewhat similar to the tattooed elf's current situation. Could she be another escaped slave, one experimented on as Fenris had been? He hid a grin behind a hand as he realized the elf felt a kinship with the girl, at least in that regard.

"She's pretty, isn't she, Fenris?"

The elf acted like he had been shocked, jumping away from the girl and scowling at Hawke like he had just insulted his ancestors. Hawke laughed and straightened, turning back to Corff. "Where does she live now?"

Corff shrugged. "Somewhere in Lowtown, I suspect. A woman by the name of Eva is housin' and helpin' her out. She used ta pick Emma up, but the past three days she don't—said Emma wanted to learn her way and for us to stop coddlin' her."

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Hawke watched the girl. She groaned and rolled over. Well, she seemed a rather independent, feisty thing. But again, his mind reeled back to what intrigued him: how could someone simply reject magic like she had? He had to know. Coming to a decision, he slapped his hand on the counter.

"Right. Here's what we'll do."

* * *

I woke slowly, groggy and uncertain of everything. I sat up slowly and someone gripped my shoulders to help prop me up. My head was throbbing. I raised a hand and rubbed my temples, trying to ease away the headache.

"Easy, now."

That was an unfamiliar voice. I glanced to my side and my eyes met golden ones. I stared in utter confusion for a few seconds before I remembered everything in startling detail.

"Barden!" I gasped, looking around for him. But I was startled into confusion. This wasn't the tavern, and judging by the light streaming in from a giant window, not even night anymore. What the hell happened while I had been unconscious?

"Where's Barden?" I demanded whirling on the bond man—the healer. "Where am I?"

He gave me a small smile. "You are currently in the Hawke estate. As for . . . this Barden, I assume he was the man whom you were clutching in unconsciousness?"

I nodded, gripping the sheets—I was in a bed, I vaguely realized. An actual bed with incredibly soft sheets. But that didn't matter, not now.

The healer's face grew a bit tight, with wrinkles appearing on his brown and his lips turning a smidge into a frown. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but he is dead."

I stared at him, squinting, not understanding what he was saying to me. "No." I whispered. "No, no, no."

"Do not fret. He was given a modest burial not too long ago."

He patted my hand, as if to comfort me. But all I could think about was Barden, his kind eyes as he spoke of home and his sister's cooking. How he made sure I was safe. He tried to save me from trouble only to give up his life. I forced back my tears, bowing my head, asking him silently to forgive me—if I had spoken louder, been more insistent, or even never been here, he would be alive to talk about his family, to go to his sister. I wanted to feel like I was the one who should have died, but . . . my will to survive was too strong—I didn't want to die—and I think that was where the guilt was coming from and it was eating at me. Even if it brought him back, I wouldn't want to trade places. I was a horrible person.

My grip on the sheets tightened until my knuckles were white, rage building inside me until I couldn't contain it anymore. At me and—my eyes cut to the healer—at him.

"You!" I yelled. "Why didn't you save him?" I demanded.

He looked slightly surprised, then cautious as he said, "He was already gone and in the Maker's hands when I got to him. I cannot bring the dead back to life."

I wanted to say more, to accuse him of his failings, but . . . all anger drained from me. I was so emotionally drained. _I'm sorry Barden._ Snuffling had my eyes trail to a rather nice door. It was pushed open as a massive, and I mean _massive,_ dog head pushed through. At first glance, he reminded me of some kind of mastiff, cane corso mix, with a thick and deep chest, pronounced musculature and pointed ears. Oh. Oh! I loved dogs. Warmth bubbled up from inside me, a warmth that had my heart expanding and swelling with love, momentarily pushing aside my anger and self-loathing and pain. The dog walked into the room, followed by a man—the bearded mage from last night. Hawke.

The dog came to my side and sniffed my hand, nudging it. I patted his head and rubbed his ears, a small smile pulling at my lips, that momentary happiness fading.

"Good dog." I murmured.

He gave a soft bark, then sat on his haunches. He was a regal looking beast, that's for sure.

Hawke went and grabbed a chair from the window and placed it by the bedside, opposite from the healer. He bowed his head, smiling. "My name is Garrett Hawke. I was told your name is Emma?"

I nodded, feeling very self-conscious.

He placed a hand on the dog's head. "This is Bruiser. And that," He nodded his head at the healer, "Is Anders."

Anders gave a tentative smile.

"It's . . . nice to meet you." _Well, that was convincing_. But I didn't feel like faking friendliness. To distract myself, I gestured to Bruiser. "What kind of dog is he? He's massive. Is he a mastiff of some sort?"

Hawke glanced at the healer, Anders, before replying. "I do not know if this . . . mastiff breed, but Bruiser is a full-blooded Mabari hound."

"Mabari . . . you're a Dog Lord? I-I mean, you're a Ferelden?"

Hawke folded his arms and smiled big. "I was. I'm a Kirkwaller now, for good or for bad. But enough about me. How are you feeling?"

"I feel . . . tired." I admitted. "And confused. Why am I here?"

"We thought it best to keep careful eye on you, what with all the trauma that's happened to you." Anders cut in.

"Trauma? Someone told you . . . about me . . ." And then I remembered why I had been working at the tavern in the first place and why I had been seeking these men out. I whirled on the healer. "Can you help me? Can you help me remember who I am? Get my memories back?" I asked breathlessly in my excitement.

Anders cast a look at Hawke and they locked gazes for a while, before Anders nodded and settled more comfortably on his chair. "I'm sorry to say this, but I won't be able to help you."

I felt like I had just been punched in the gut and I shriveled. "Oh." Frustration gripped me. "Well, why not? You're a healer, aren't you?"

"I am a healer, yes. But it is not on my end that makes my help unavailable."

I furrowed my brow. "What the hell does that mean? Wait. Do you need money? I was told you healed people for free. I mean, I have some money, but it's not much . . ."

"No. That's not the problem." He began, but Hawke leaned forward, interrupting and capturing my attention.

"So you don't know, then?"

"Know what?" I shouted, exasperated.

"That magic has no effect on you."

And then Hawke's hand was engulfed in fire and he grabbed my arm. I screamed and threw myself away from the mage, falling out of bed and hitting the floor hard with my back. I quickly scrambled away, clutching my arm. "What the hell is wrong with you!" I screeched. I suddenly realized that Hawke wasn't in my line of vision anymore when suddenly he popped up from the other side of the bed, laughing.

"Hawke, that was highly reckless and inappropriate." Anders scolded.

Hawke shot him a grin as he stood to his full height. "Dramatic flair is my thing." He turned back to me. "Look at your arm." Hawke urged.

Glaring, and making sure to keep him in my field of vision, I looked down at my arm. And gaped. No way. My arm was fine, completely unblemished. What the hell? Still gaping, looked at the mages before me. "W-what . . . what the hell? What just happened?"

"We had hoped you could enlighten us, but apparently you had no idea you could do this either." Hawke replied. "By chance, does the name Tevinter or the word Magister mean anything to you?"

"Um . . . no?" I said uncertainly.

Hawke shrugged. "Thought I'd try."

"Is someone going to explain what just happened or not?" I demanded.

"By the Maker, what was all that screaming about!" A woman burst through the door, looking alarmed. She was an older woman with greying hair and she was beautiful to me. Probably not in the stereotypical way, but that didn't matter. Age had taken its toll on her, but she held herself with a purpose and wore simple, but fine clothing. She immediately spotted me and came to my side, glaring at the two men who now were on their feet. Anders bowed to the woman.

"Lady Hawke." He said softly.

Lady Hawke . . . ? Based on her age, this was Hawke's mother? Looking at her, I saw the resemblance, but just barely. I wondered if Garrett Hawke took after his dad. "What in the world are you doing to this poor girl?" She scolded.

Hawke looked sheepish. "I was just showing her—"

But his mother cut him off. "Out. Both of you. Wash your hands and face and meet us at the table to break our fast. Now, shoo!"

Looking chastised, both men, a dog, scuffled out of the room, with Hawke shooting me a look as he closed the door. Apparently our conversation wasn't over. And I was just fine with that. I wanted answers too.

"Hello, dear. My name is Leandra Hawke. And you're Emma. I heard you had quite a scare last night."

Looking at her, I could tell she was stern lady, but fair and kind. But her eyes also spoke of grief and loss. Though I hadn't known him long, five days felt like a lifetime due to my memory loss and I mourned the death of Barden. I wondered who she had lost to make grief a permanent feature on her face. Then again, maybe I was just making that all up.

"I . . . yes. But . . . your son saved me." And then it really hit me. I could have died. I had almost been raped. And I had never once thanked my rescuers. Shame washed over me at my ingratitude. I resolved to thank them the next time I saw them, every one of them.

Leandra smile. "My boy may deny it, but he's a good man. Always helping people, even if they don't ask." She shook her head. "But enough of him. Are you quite alright? I heard you screaming earlier. I do hope that neither one of them did some inappropriate?"

A burning hand connecting with my arm flashed into my mind and then I was confused all over again. Skin should have been gone, melted off by the intense flame. And yet, here I sat, uninjured. Again: what the hell?

"Ah . . . no. I overreacted." Actually, I wasn't sure on that account. "I'm sorry if I caused trouble."

She patted my hand which she had grasped with her hands. "No trouble, my dear. Now, let's get you ready for the morning meal."

* * *

Leandra traded out the drab outfit handed to me by Eva with an outfit from her wardrobe which, I noted, was packed. She had spotted me eyeing all the dresses of various makes and colors.

"My son recently came into money and felt a need to spend far too much on me." Her eyes were soft however, despite her disapproving tone.

"They're gorgeous." I had replied, but all I could think about was Eva and her one dress.

Leandra fretted over me, sitting me down after helping me into the contraption called a dress and then pulling out what I assumed was makeup. She painted my face (painted, because there was no other way to describe it) and then fixed my hair. It all seemed too much and like far too much trouble, but I had this distinct feeling that Leandra was enjoying herself. She had me stand up and gave me a critical eye before smiling and going to a drawer. When she turned around, she presented me with a small handheld mirror.

"Take a look."

Hesitantly, I raised the mirror. To be honest, I didn't know what to expect. I had glanced at my reflection in a bucket of water once, but I hadn't been able to discern much. I had gathered I was somehow pretty, based on the patrons at the tavern and from other various comments. But as I looked at myself in the mirror, I was conflicted.

I suppose I could be considered pretty. But I was no beauty. I wasn't sure how I felt about the makeup on me, but I couldn't just go and wipe it off after all of Leandra's hard work. I noted that my eyes were a dull brown color, nothing uncommon or unique about them except for, maybe, the shape of them. My hair was a brown color, same as my eyes, with a slight red tinge to it—auburn, that's what it was called. Well, close to it. It was almost too brown to be called auburn, I guess. Vaguely, I noted that I now had a silverish scar on my throat, but you really couldn't see it unless the light hit it just right or you knew what you were looking for. Huh. Eva and I now wore matching scars.

But other than that, I was . . . rather plain.

"Well?"

I gave her an uncertain smile. "I look better." I offered.

She seemed somewhat let down by my response, but I didn't have it in me to lie. Taking the mirror from my hand and placing it back in its drawer, she said, "Let's not keep the men waiting for too much longer, shall we?"

* * *

As we entered what I assumed was a dining room after climbing down a flight of stairs, both mages turned to look at us then quickly scrambled to their feet. With a wide grin on his face, Hawke stepped forward and offered his arm to me and I was momentarily confused. Oh. He was being a gentleman. Hesitantly and fighting the blush that threatened to overtake me, I threaded my arm through his and he led me to a chair. He disengaged from me and pulled out said chair for me to sit in. From the corner of my eye, I spied Anders doing the same for Leandra.

As soon as we were settled, both men went and sat back down. A woman, an elf, seemingly appearing from nowhere, started placing meals before us. It was a simple meal—a slice of meat of some sort, bread, some veggies and a gravy—but I felt my stomach sour as it was so much more than either I or Eva could afford at any one time.

"So, Emma. Tell me about yourself."

I glanced up from my food. I looked over at Hawke, then Anders. What was I to say? I eventually shrugged. "There's nothing to say."

"Of course there is." Leandra replied.

I shook my head. "I mean, I can't say anything. I lost my memories."

Immediately, a pitying look was shot my way. "You poor dear."

Feeling irritated, I gripped the arms of my chair tightly. I had gotten that look so many times, I wanted to scream. I didn't want pity. It was stifling. It was, in a way, degrading. Though I had only known her maybe an hour, I knew Leandra didn't mean anything by it, but that knowledge didn't negate how I felt.

Noting my tenseness, Hawke stepped in. "Yes. She was found on the Wounded Coast. You never did have a chance to tell us how you found your way to Kirkwall."

I shrugged, picking at my food. Everyone else was eating their food, but I had lost my appetite. "Maraas found me."

"Maraas?"

I suddenly felt like I needed to keep Maraas a secret. I wasn't sure why, but so much of me was already known to everyone else. I would like just one secret to make me feel like I was in control. So I just nodded.

"And this Maraas, he led you to Kirkwall? Where is he now?" Leandra inquired.

Again, I shrugged.

"He just left you? In your state?" She demanded, indignant.

"No. He, um, had a friend who he brought me to and who has been helping me since."

Leandra nodded, mollified.

"Eva?" Hawke interjected.

Surprised, I jerked my eyes to him. "Yeah. How did you . . ."

"Corff spoke of her."

"Oh. Well, yes. She has been helping me adjust."

"You know, I can't help but wonder if you are a noble, bred and raised." Leandra said thoughtfully and I was immediately reminded of Eva. "You are very well spoken and have the healthy look of one."

"I wouldn't know one way or another." I said.

Quiet reigned for some time after that as everyone else finished up their meals. Hawke looked at my plate as he leaned back.

"You need to eat. You've been under a lot of stress and you've been injured. You need to keep up your strength."

And I knew that, but eating their food felt wrong, for some bizarre reason. Was it guilt? That I was eating so good and Eva ate a hardened piece of bread? Maybe.

"I'm not hungry."

He eyed me, then sighed. "Alright, then." Then his eyes turned sharp. "Let's finish our talk, shall we?"

I straightened, very alert. "What did you do? Why wasn't I injured?" The elf woman appeared and started taking empty plates, but when she came to mine, she looked uncertainly at me. "Oh, um. You can leave mine." I mumbled.

"Yes, mistress."

 _That_ got my attention. Why it bugged me so bad, I wasn't sure, but that whole interaction felt off. But I pushed it to the back of my mind for now. One thing at a time.

Hawke leaned forward and raised his hand, palm up. Fire materialized in his hand, licking his fingers but not once burning him. He clenched his hand shut and the flame disappeared, smothered out.

"Do you know anything of magic? Of mages?" he finally asked.

"Not much." I admitted. "Eva told me that mages are locked up in that place in the middle of the harbor."

Anders visibly tensed and Hawke shot him a warning look.

"She also told me that . . . demons constantly tempt you? That they can possess you?"

Hawke nodded. "It is more complicated than that, but yes. Let me enlighten you. Mages are connected to the Fade." He paused. "You do know what the Fade is, correct?"

"Uh, no."

Hawke sighed. "To the basics, then."

"The Fade is the world between ours and heaven." Anders supplied. "It is the world with which normal people dream-walk in."

"It is home to a great many things, spirits being one, and demons, for another. And mages are in constant contact with the Fade. We basically have one foot in the Fade and one in the real world at all times. That leaves us open to many threats, including that of possession of demons, as your Eva told you." Hawke cast a meaningful look at Anders that I didn't miss but didn't take much notice of. I was suddenly very disconcerted by this knowledge. And something was needling at me, something I didn't understand yet.

"But just because we are under a greater threat does not mean we are any more dangerous than the next person." Anders reassured.

Hawke grunted. "Many would disagree." Quietly, almost inaudibly, Hawke added, "And I think I'm falling into their numbers."

"Right. This is good and all, but what has this got to do with me and what happened upstairs?"

Hawke blinked, then smiled. "Right. We got a bit off topic, didn't we? Then let me get back on subject. Us mages need something called mana. It powers us, allows us to use spells and cast magic. Without it, we are powerless. This mana can be found here, or, quite substantially, in the Fade. I see you're getting confused—so let me simplify. Mana is magic and magic is mana. Not everyone can tap into mana or use magic, but everyone can have it flow through them."

"And that's how a mage heals." Anders added.

Hawke continued. "Except you. You reject magic, nullify it. Even when unconscious, which is unheard of."

I connected two and two together. Then I gave Hawke an annoyed look. "You could have just said that magic doesn't work on me and therefore you can't help me."

Hawke's grin broadened. "Ah, but then you wouldn't understand how exceptional you are. Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I have never come across one such as you and I am most certain so has no one else or I'd bet my knickers that the Templars would have found and flouted such an ability to cow us mages even more."

That was . . . something. I had no idea what to make of it or why it was so important, but . . . okay. Before I could open my mouth, I was interrupted by shouting. And thank God, because I had no idea what I was going to say.

"Emma! Leggo of me, ya dirt digger!" I jumped to my feet as Eva's unmistakable voice rang in the building. "I know ya got mah Emma and I want her back! She ain't done nothin' wrong!"

I ran out of the dining room and down a hallway until I came to the scene of the struggled. A dwarf was trying to restrain the woman, huffing and puffing. He looked up and looked relieved. "Messere Hawke! This woman just barged in, shoutin' and wavin' her arms about!"

I turned to find Garrett Hawke hot on my heels. When he saw the scene, he laughed. "Let her go, Bodahn."

As if she were a hot coal, Bodahn let go and Eva stumbled. She straightened herself and glared at the dwarf. Then turned to me, her face turning relieved. "Emma! Maker's breath, I thought the worst!" She breathed, a hand going to her chest over her heart. "Corff said ya were takin' to this here estate and I came right here to fetch ya."

She turned to Hawke, looking more and more amused as the woman wagged a finger at him. "And you! She ain't done nothin' so ya have nary a right to keep her here!"

Hawke raised his hands in surrender, laughing. Seeing his mirth, Eva turned confused and glanced at me, then turned her full attention back on Hawke.

"You're Eva, I assume?" Hawke said.

"Well . . . yeah." She starred suspiciously at him. "Ya ain't done nothin' to Emma, have ya?"

"Not at all, Lady Eva." She seemed surprised by the title Hawke cast her way and she blushed.

"I won't have ya mockin' me!"

"I'm not mocking you, Serah Eva." Hawke reassured. "And rest assured, I merely had Emma stay at my estate for her to heal and rest properly. Nothing more."

That seemed to take the wind out of her sails. She suddenly turned sheepish. "Oh. Well I . . . I'm serry for the way I . . . forgive me." She stuttered out.

Hawke gave her a kind smile and I couldn't help but think how handsome he looked with that kind smile, rather than the mischievous one he constantly wore. Also . . . I was kind of impressed that not once did his eyes linger on her scars.

"There is no offence taken here, Serah Eva. You were merely looking out for your charge. Nothing more noble than that. Have you broken your fast this day?" He inquired.

Eva shot me an uncertain look, looking out of her element for the first time in, well, ever. "I-I, well, no. I rushed over here as soon as I woke up and realized she wasn't with me and Corff told me where she was and—" realizing she was rambling Eva, shut her mouth, a faint blush coming to her cheeks.

"Then please, allow me to offer you a meal to break your fast with."

"N-no, I couldn't possibly—"

"I insist." Hawke came to her side and placed a hand on Eva's back, urging her forward. Eva, for her part, looked nonplussed and slightly panicked. Truth be told, I found it all rather amusing. Hawke turned to me and gave me a wink.

I forced myself to stifle my giggle.

I was actually excited for Eva—she would be eating well for the first time in what I knew was a long time.


	9. Chapter 9: What a Jerk!

_This one is a little shorter than the others. For some reason Fenris is giving me trouble—so updates may be a little slower until I figure out how to properly write him, as well as my version of Hawke (I know I've said this before, but I'm insanely rusty with writing and 'showing, not telling'). To be honest, I'm a bit worried I'll make them appear out of character—if any of the 'main cast' seem wonky, let me know so I can fix it._

 _I also wanted to let you know I appreciate reviews. Sorry about not really replying, but unless you have a direct question, it's hard for me to (get the motivation to) reply back. But I read every one and I appreciate the follows and favorites. Thanks for taking the time to read my story!_

 _As always, Dragon Age does not belong to me. However, Emma and any OC as well as this particular storyline are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 9: What a Jerk!**

As Eva, Hawke, and Leandra spoke to one another at the table (Anders having excused himself to tend to his clinic), I found myself drawn to Bruiser who was lying down alertly by the hearth. I sat down next to him and he watched me carefully, tilting his head a little, as if asking me what I wanted.

I began scratching at the base of his stubby tail and he shivered—in delight, I hoped. He really was massive and quite a creature to behold. As he yawned, I was in awe of the teeth he displayed—those would do massive damage. Fatal, really.

"Don't want to get on your bad side, do I?" I mused.

For the life of me, it looked like he grinned in amusement. I wondered where the dog had been during the commotion just moments ago. I mean, he was a war hound right? He should protect or at least guard his turf. I looked at the Bruiser and the mabari turned his head to look at me, locking gazes. I knew, very suddenly, I wasn't supposed to look an animal directly in the eyes, but . . . as I studied his eyes, there was something distinctly intelligent about them instead of the dull intelligence of an animal, the intelligence of simply relying on instincts. I shivered and broke eye contact. As intriguing as it was, it was also unnerving.

"Do you know anything about mabaris?"

I startled and looked up to find Hawke squatting down beside us, rubbing Bruiser on his head, the dog leaning into his touch. I glanced at Leandra and Eva and found them laughing about something and talking animatedly—I grinned, glad they were getting along. I turned my attention back to Hawke.

"No. They're war hounds, right?"

Hawke smiled. "That's right. Fereldens use them during war—to track, to guard, to attack. But I'm sure you've noticed something off about Bruiser."

Off? I wouldn't say that . . . "He has incredibly intelligent eyes." I noted.

"Mabaris are incredibly intelligent. They think, can outwit their prey and strategize. Fereldens say they can even understand human speech, even if they can't replicate it. What's more, a mabari chooses its owner—you do not choose your mabari."

"Fascinating." I whispered in awe. So Bruiser chose Hawke? I wondered how it all went down.

"Very. There are also tales of them in Chantry lore. True or not, mabaris are a noble, intelligent breed, that's for sure." He shot Bruiser a look that had the dog cocking his head in question. "Some would say they're too clever for their own good." Bruiser huffed in indignation, making Hawke snicker. Then, looking me up and down, he said, "That dress suits you."

I made a face. "I hate dresses." I admitted.

He chuckled. "I hate them too. They accentuate all the wrong parts of my body."

I stared at him, and then spluttered as I tried to suppress my laughter, the ridiculous image of him in a dress impossible to un-see.

"What are you two laughing about?"

We both turned to find Leandra and Eva watching us curiously. For some reason, that really set me off. I burst into laughter and Hawke chuckled, pulling an innocent, wide-eyed look. "I have no idea."

Shaking her head, Leandra turned back to Eva. For some reason, Eva shot me an odd look, almost like she was warning me about something. Weird.

Hawke sat down fully and turned back to me. "I'm sorry that we weren't able to fulfill your expectations."

Well, that was out of the blue and had me feeling somber once again. I shrugged half-heartedly. "It's . . . not your fault. Apparently it's mine. But . . . I won't always be so clueless—my memories have to come back eventually, right?"

My self-consoling didn't ring with sincerity. So much had been riding on this and I all the while I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the possible life I had been torn from. Yes, time would probably give me what I wanted, but there was no way of knowing what I would remember nor when I would remember it. And that was terrifying. What if ten years passed and I suddenly and finally remembered that I had children—I would have lost ten years that I should have been spending with my children. What if twenty years passed and a family finally gave up searching for me and thought I was dead and were grieving over me when I was very much alive? My heart clenched at either scenario.

What if, what if, what if . . .

I pulled myself out of my spiraling thoughts. No point it letting it depress me. I was alive, wasn't I? I had found some good people to help me. I should be content with that. I wasn't, but I should be.

I glanced at Hawke and he seemed to be considering something. "I don't know if you remember, what with all that happened," He began, "But among those who were there last night was a man by the name of Fenris."

I shook a little as the familiarity of that name washed over me. I saw . . . what did I see? I saw a wolf, a massive wolf, and odd knotting designs. I didn't know what any of that had to do with a name like 'Fenris' though. Hawke didn't miss my reaction.

"This name is familiar to you?"

"Yes? Kind of? I see a wolf . . . but you said this Fenris was a man."

"Hm. His name means 'little wolf' in Tevene." He seemed to be hinting at something but I had no idea what.

"I see a massive wolf. One that blots out the sky."

Hawke laughed. "You know? I think Fenris would like that description than anything associated with 'little'."

"Why did you bring him up?"

"Your situation reminds me a lot of his. It's not completely the same, but . . ." He shrugged.

"I don't understand."

"Fenris is a fugitive, a runaway slave. A Magister experimented on him and because of the experiment, he . . . gained some formidable power, but seemed to trade it in for his memories."

My heart sped up in horror. "That's barbaric." I hissed, feeling my stomach turn and acid burning at my throat. It was obvious Fenris hadn't volunteered for this 'experiment', what with him being a slave and the tone of voice Hawke used. I forced myself to calm down, unclenching my hands. "You think that just because I have lost my memories, my situation is the same?"

"Similar. But that's not the only reason. Fenris is unique, one of a kind with his abilities. _You_ are one of a kind with yours."

"You think . . . I was experimented on by one of these . . . Magisters? That I'm a runaway slave?" I hadn't realized that my voice had raised pitch until Eva and Leandra's conversation died off.

Hawke glanced at the older women at the table. "I don't know. You do not have the bearings of a slave—Fenris is free, but he still fights against behaviors conditioned into him from the moment he was born. But perhaps if you spoke with him, he might enlighten you—about your past or perhaps how to handle your life from this point on?"

I mulled that over. "Will you take me to him?" I finally said.

Hawke gave me a small smile. "Nothing would please me more."

I nodded my head slowly. "Okay, but first, I want to get out of this dress."

* * *

Hawke had given me a set of his clothes to wear, instead of yet another dress that Leandra had offered. She thought it was that particular dress that I found offensive, not dresses in general. I had, kindly, corrected her.

I had had to roll up the sleeves and cuff of the pants a few times for them to not hide my hands and feet. And then Hawke had handed me a belt to keep the bloody pants up, which tried to fall without me even moving. When I had walked out of the room, dressed in his clothes, he had hid a smile.

"What?" I had demanded, blushing.

"Nothing. You just look like a kid trying to fit into her father's clothes."

I had stuck my tongue out at him, belatedly realizing I was just validating that image even more. Leandra had begged for Eva to join her for a jaunt in the market, promising that Hawke would keep me safe. But the funny thing was, Eva kept shooting me looks, as if warning me about something but I had just shot back bemused looks. She had rolled her eyes and, after Leandra insisted more than a couple times, followed Leandra through another doorway.

"I ever thought I'd see Eva being coerced to do something." I confessed.

"No one says no to my mother." Hawke chuckled. "It never ends in their favor."

His eyes dropped down to my shoes. I had been able to hide them under the skirt of the dresses, but now my sneakers were in full view. I guess Hawke hadn't really taken notice of them before, when they had taken them off my feet to place me in bed—I had found them tucked under the bed frame.

"Peculiar shoes." Then, reaching for something tucked into his sash form behind, he drew forth—

"My knife!" I gasped, taking it from his hand. Shame washed over me as I realized it had been on my person the entire time of the assault and not once did I remember it or to even draw it. I couldn't fool myself, however—I doubt I would have been able to do much against men so well armed and trained.

"I figured you would want it back. It's a nice piece of metal. Where'd you get it?"

"Maraas . . ." Just thinking about the surly Tal-Vashoth made shame roll through me again. Maraas would probably have been disgusted by how I had forgotten the existence of his blade, the blade he had given me to defend against those exact men.

I tucked blade into the belt, promising myself right then and there I'd use that blade to defend myself—I'd draw blood before I'd ever let what happened last night happen ever again, to me or to anyone else.

Hawke studied me for a moment, looking for something. I don't know if he found it, but he seemed to decide something before leading me out of the house and estate. When we came into the street, I was fairly shocked by what I saw. Hightown was a far cry from Lowtown in appearance at the very least. The streets, while not pristine, were so much cleaner and well kept. Not a single building was in the process of falling down or in need of dire repair.

The people were different in both appearance and aura. Lowtown stunk of desperation and exhaustion, the buildings looking as rough and used as the people. Here, the air was lighter, more alive, the buildings as finely made and decorated as the people. Really, it was like comparing two different worlds rather than two different sections of a city. My gut burned at the injustice of it all.

But I was one person and as of right now, I could only focus on one thing at a time. Hawke led me through Hightown and I focused mostly either on his broad back or studying his staff or keeping my eyes on my feet. Mostly because I couldn't stomach anymore reminders of how much better Hightown people had it compared to Lowtowners.

"I suppose I should warn you."

Torn from my heated thoughts, I looked to find Hawke had slowed down enough to walk by my side. "About what?"

"About the man we are about to meet. Fenris isn't . . . exactly a ray of sunshine. As I said, he is an escaped slave and he has had to fight for his freedom, is _still_ fighting for his freedom. He is suspicious of just about everyone and can be a bit temperamental. Don't expect him to welcome you with open arms." He warned.

"Okay."

We eventually came to a building that didn't look as cared for as the others. It was a huge building, dare I say, bigger than Hawke's estate. Hawke tugged me along and led me to a red door that led inside the mansion. However, it did look a bit in disrepair. Hawke didn't knock or anything, just opened the door and gestured for me to go ahead of him. It occurred to me that I was placing a lot of trust in this man. A _lot_. For all I knew, he was leading me into this place for some nefarious purpose. But I decided to trust my gut instinct that he was being honest—it hadn't led me astray yet.

I strode inside and then froze a few feet in. Holy crap on a cracker. The outside looked a little worn down, but the inside was a disaster. Like someone had unleashed a tornado and flung everything this way and that. There was shattered pieces of wood and glass, cobwebs of enormous size clinging in corners. I stared, aghast at Hawke.

"Yes . . . well, did I tell you that this place used to belong to his former master? Technically speaking, Fenris is a squatter." He chuckled. "However, I doubt anyone would contend him about him staying here. He has a reputation for being unsavory and hostile."

Great. He sounded awesome. Why were we meeting this guy again? But I followed Hawke deeper into the building and with growing alarm, I noted splotches of a rust colored stains on walls, floors, and sometimes the ceiling.

"Um . . . is that blood?" I asked, alarmed.

"The estate wasn't empty when we came to say hello to Danarius. However, Danarius had already skipped out—Fenris was rather put out and took it out on the . . . creatures left behind."

I shivered at his word choice: creatures. This just solidified that I should _not_ take these men lightly. We then entered a, I don't know, grand hall kind of room. There was a second level boarded by a railing with two staircases on either side, wrapping up to it. Here, there was a crap ton of blood staining the ground and walls and I felt myself get queasy. What had happened _here_?

Hawke told me to wait and went up the stairs and then disappeared. Hawke came back not a few minutes later, heading down the stairs. "I think he's in the courtyard. Follow me."

Hawke led me down another hallway and opened the door at the end. I was momentarily blinded by the bright light of day as I stepped outside. The courtyard was an impressive size—I couldn't say how big because apparently my ability to measure something was absolute shite. But it was _big_. I imagined it was once very beautiful, but the trees and hedges hadn't been pruned nor the garden cultivated in years and the grass stood knee high.

I then was aware of the sound of something hitting wood and the sound of someone grunting on occasion. I looked up and found a white haired man swinging a _massive_ claymore and hacking a makeshift . . . dummy? to pieces. I almost felt bad for the rough wooden figurine. But my eyes were immediately drawn to the man swinging the sword. One, because he had a shock of white hair, and two, he was _shirtless_. I couldn't help but notice the corded muscles along his back and arms jump to attention as he swung his sword once more.

Damn.

I vaguely remembered him jump into a bunch of my assaulters, thinking that he was aglow and had claws. My eyes automatically ripped to his hands, but was oddly and slightly disappointed to find them as normal as any other persons. The next thing I noticed was the fact that he wasn't human—he was an elf.

"Fenris!" Hawke greeted, stepping forward.

I hung back, continuing my study of the man. Fenris straightened and with _one freaking hand_ held the blade and turned to look coolly at Hawke. There was so much to take it, I wasn't sure where to start. He was tall, that was for sure. Not as tall as Hawke, but definitely taller than any elf I had seen. As far as I remembered, all the elves from the Alienage had been shorter than me, with one or two reaching my height—which wasn't saying much as I wasn't very tall. So I wondered if he was either unique or just from a different branch of elves.

Then my eyes took in the tattoos that covered his entire body. They were an unusual color—a silver color that almost seemed to glow against his dusky skin. Was that why I had thought he had been glowing last night? I wasn't sure what they were supposed to represent but they curled around his body, tangling and curling heavily near major organs like his heart and gut, acting a lot like veins. I was startled back to attention as both men looked at me. I was arrested by the wolf man's gaze as he gave me a cursory glance before turning to a railing where a black tunic rested, as if he found nothing noteworthy about me.

Well, that was a bit discouraging . . . and riled my temper a bit.

But I couldn't get his eyes out of my head. I had never seen such clear, green eyes before. And right then and there I remembered that green was my favorite color and I wondered if that was why I found his eyes to be so mesmerizing. I was strangely disappointed when he slid the tunic back onto his person and turned back around to join Hawke once more—I think it was more because his beautiful, intricate tattoos were now hidden.

And probably because he was one of the most gorgeous men I had seen here with an incredibly toned physique. What? I wasn't blind or dead, despite this world trying to throw me into an early grave. I fought back the blush.

Oh. Oh, they had just said something to me.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"Not the brightest one, is she?" Fenrus rumbled.

I raised an eyebrow at him, then scowled. "Excuse me?"

Hawke patted Fenris's shoulder. "Be nice, Fenris. I just finished introducing you to Fenris, here."

"Oh, well, it's nice to mean you." _That_ sounded sincere. Not.

But I tried to keep in mind everything that Hawke had warned me about concerning this man. He was suspicious and temperamental. _And, apparently, a jerk_.

Hawke chuckled. "You have a way with women, my friend."

Fenris scowl deepened, if that was at all possible. Huh. I wonder why his eyebrows were black when his hair was a stark white? "Why are you here, Hawke?"

"Let's go sit and talk about that, shall we?"

* * *

I wrinkled my nose at the dining room, which was, of course, massive. A long table stretched the majority of the room with a hearth nestled against a wall at the middle of the table. But everywhere I looked, there was dirt, grime, and cobwebs. And, I noted, bottles galore. Some shattered, some intact.

We all sat at one end of the table, Fenris having fetched a bottle that he uncorked. It didn't take me but a moment to realize that Fenris liked to drink as he turned the bottle to his lips immediately to take a gulp. I wondered idly if all the bottles littering the floor were his. What was I saying? Of course they were.

Hawke looked concerned. "Did something happen?"

I don't think I was supposed to hear their whispered conversation, but I did. I quietly eavesdropped.

Fenris rubbed his forehead, looking quite tired and . . . vulnerable. But when he glanced quickly at me, that vulnerability vanished. He trusted Hawke, but not me. I was okay with that, considering we had only just met. Still stung, but I understood.

"Just . . . dreams. Memories. They are . . . relentless. I have no slept well for a while." He admitted, then leaned back, sighing. "Now, why are you here, Hawke?"

"I was hoping you would talk with Emma."

Fenris's face furrowed into confusion. "What for?"

Hawke gestured to me and for once, someone was turning the reins over to me, allowing me to control what and how much I wanted revealed. I never quite knew it bothered me until that moment and I appreciated the gesture immensely. "I . . . Hawke thinks my situation is similar to yours."

Fenris's eyes turned sharp, like a honed blade. "Situation? And what is my situation?"

I wanted nothing more than to cower at that look, but I refused to let him intimidate me. I would even go so far as to say that if Hawke trusted this . . . well, I trusted Hawke. "That you can't remember your past and that you're one of a kind."

That response seemed to surprise the scowl off his face for a second. Then he said, "One of a kind . . . Hawke believes you are one of a kind?"

Well . . . his skeptic tone was hurtful—I could be a one of a kind for any reason!—and that hurt quickly turned into an indignant anger. What a jerk!

Hawke stepped in. "Emma, I would like to show him."

I felt my stomach tighten, but I reassured myself that just this morning, he had proven that magic didn't harm me. I stood and went to his side, extending my arm to him. Hawke flicked some fire into his hand and I saw Fenris shift uncomfortably. I honed in on that—I wondered why he was so uncomfortable now.

"Step back, against the wall, Emma. I don't want a repeat of last time, thanks." Hawke said wryly. I did as he asked, remembering how he had flown from his chair. I kind of wondered if me keeping my distance would actually stop that side effect.

"Hawke, what are you—" Fenris started, sounding worried and nervous.

"Watch." Was all Hawke said before he shot a mass of fire at me.

And then all hell broke loose.


	10. Chapter 10: Things Will Get Better

_Hello, hello, hello._

 _This chapter isn't very long and, once again, I may revise it. But I'm posting it because I'm finding that once I do, I can better recognize my mistakes and ways I can make it better. Sorry and thanks for putting up with such an erratic author such as myself._

 _By the way, your guys' comments made me laugh a time or two this past chapter. Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows. I'm trying hard to measure up to ya'll's expectations._

 _As always, Bioware owns the world and characters of Dragon Age. My OCs and this storyline are mine._

 _Enjoy._

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Things Will Get Better**

I'm not even really all that certain what happened. For a split second, I realized I was being incredibly, naively trusting with Hawke. True, I had seen with my own eyes that his magic hadn't hurt me, but that was one time—who's to say it wasn't some fluke? What was I _doing_ letting a man I had just met this morning throw fire at me? _What was wrong with me?_ I was in such a panic, I froze and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see my demise—as if closing them wouldn't let me _feel_ it either.

And then the next second I _felt_ it when Hawke's fire reached me. It didn't burn me or anything like that. But it was like . . . stillness, for just a millisecond I couldn't hear or feel anything. And it was a terrifying sensation.

And then I heard shouting and a crash. Dazed, I opened my eyes to find chairs flung every-which way as Fenris clutched his sword, face red, yelling in some strange, fluid language at Hawke who was also standing, hands raised and a sheepish look on his face. I blinked as my eyes told my brain that the elf was glowing blue.

But I quickly disregarded them as I started patting my body to reassure myself that I was alive and whole. Then I quickly realized something—my pats were connecting with skin. What the—I glanced down and my mouth dropped open. A shriek got caught in my throat as I looked down at myself, aghast. My clothes! They were burned to a crisp with only strips and tattered pieces hanging onto me, the undergarment—my bra—was now completely ruined.

I should have thought about what would happen to my clothing—no, Hawke, the _mage_ should have thought about what would happen should he shoot fire at someone who was apparently immune to magic but their clothes were not. The shriek that I hadn't been able to emit tore from my lips as I covered my upper torso and glared daggers at Hawke.

Both men had been having a shouting match—about what, I wasn't sure and at the moment couldn't care less about—jerked to look at me. Fenris's face was shocked, but quickly slid into a full on blush. Hawke look befuddled, then he grinned sheepishly as he rubbed his neck.

"Should have thought about that." He said contritely. "Guess I'm being a bit reckless today."

"Ya think!" I yelled. "Don't just stand there! Get me a shirt!"

Hawke slid off his coat and walked over to me. I snatched the garment from him and shot a warning look at both men. They averted their eyes as I proceeded to stuff my arms into the sleeves and tie the cinch around my hips—it should have been my waist, but Hawke was so much taller than me. I made sure to roll up my sleeves, grumbling the entire time.

"How is she alive?" Fenris's confused voice cut through the awkward silence and my fuming.

Hawke spread his arms out, fingers splayed in a classic 'you got me' gesture. "Anders and I have deduced that she is immune to magic. As far as I am aware, magic either bounces off of her or is plain nullified." Hawke side-eyed Fenris, a grin pulling at his lips as he saw the intrigued look the elf cast my way. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Indeed. She is not a Templar." He mused. "All magic does not work on her?"

"No idea. So far only healing and fire element magic has no effect on her."

"Look, I'm right here. Can we please stop talking like I'm not?" I asked, exasperated. Then I slid my eyes to Fenris.

"Hawke!" A female voice shouted. "I know you're here and I need you now!"

Hawke sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Aveline. Duty calls. Such is the life I lead. Fenris, would you be so kind to escort Serah Emma to my estate?" Fenris opened his mouth, no doubt to refuse, when Hawke cut right back in. "Really? Thanks."

And then Hawke stepped out the door and was gone.

"What was that?" I asked, not entirely sure what to make of the situation.

"Hawke." Fenris grunted, as if that was answer enough.

I eyed the scowling elf up and down. With his shirt on, even with his height, he gave the impression that he was slight, willowy. If I hadn't seen him lift a claymore with one hand or the muscles that sprang to the surface, I would even have labeled him as weak. I knew better though. And he was so incredibly volatile. I did not feel safe being near him with Hawke, and now the blasted mage had left me alone with the man.

"Um, right. So, to Hawke's estate, then?" I ventured tentatively.

Fenris's sharp gaze flashed to me and I gulped. He really did have such impressive eyes. "I would suggest a shirt, before stepping out into public places."

I blushed. "Right."

"Come with me."

I followed Fenris to the flight of dual stair cases that led to the balcony that Hawke had climbed before. There were three doors, the biggest one in the middle and that's the door that Fenris opened and led me into. Just like all the other spaces, the bedroom was massive and in poor repair, though I had to say that it looked better than the rest. Probably because this was where Fenris spent most of his time and slept. There was a giant four-poster bed pushed up against a wall with red, velvet curtains hanging bedpost to bedpost. The sheets were ruffled and flung across the bed—the elf didn't make his bed.

Suddenly, the image of Fenris making a bed entered my head and I stifled a giggle. Poorly.

Fenris looked at me as soon as the suppressed sound left my lips. "Find something amusing, do you?" His voice sounded tense, borderline offended. He really needed to learn to toughen up—God, look who was talking.

I shrugged. "It's nothing. Really."

He narrowed his eyes at me but I wasn't paying attention to him. There was a hearth in this room, tucked to the side and opposite a long, narrow, floor-length window. There was a heavy wooden chest at the end of the bed and a wardrobe against the wall the door was found on. Here and there were trinkets of various things. There was a space above the fireplace that was off-color and rectangular, like something had been hung there—a picture—but had gone missing.

And, surprise, surprise, there were a ton of bottles littering the floor next to the fireplace. I even noted that a shattered bottle lie against the opposite wall, a stain on it.

The room felt very abandoned and . . . lonely, to be honest.

"Here." Fenris tossed a tunic in my direction from his rummaging in the chest. I barely caught it.

So many questions came to mind. I held the garment up and looking at it, said, "This place feels very lonely."

He said nothing.

"Why don't you clean up a bit?" I pressed.

"What is the point? I do not plan on staying." Then, in an undertone I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear, "I've stayed too long already."

The way he said it, there was longing. Longing to stay or to leave, I wasn't sure. I pulled the tunic on and I was a bit disgruntled to find it was a little tight on me—it didn't come as much of a surprise that the elf was skinnier than me, but Godamnit, was it a blow to my self-esteem. It was incredibly long on me, not as oversized as Hawke's, but enough for me to have to roll up the sleeves.

Huh. So he did own tunics that had sleeves.

"Why don't you plan on staying?"

"I hardly see how that is any of your business." He stated hotly.

"Geeze, calm down. I was just curious. But, I meant, you have friends here, don't you?"

"What friends?"

I furrowed my brow, confused. "Um, like Hawke?"

Fenris scoffed. "We are not friends. He is is simply a means to an end."

"But you respect him. You trust him." I didn't have to ask this time.

Fenris's scowl deepened. "I respect his ability. I would not go so far to say that I trust that man."

"What the hell? That's a lie and you know it." Why was I arguing with a man that could snap me in two? Stop talking, mouth!

"And what makes you think I'm lying?"

"I saw you two together. You . . . you trust him and he trusts you. I have no idea why you freaked out earlier, but . . . You still trust him. I can see it."

Fenris stared at me, silent.

"I can see it." I repeated, a little quieter.

Fenris went to his chest and dug in it, pulling out a chest piece made primarily of black leather and some kind of gloves—gauntlets. He strapped on his chest piece, then pulled on the gloves. Which were metal tipped and I suddenly knew why I had thought he had claws. He sheathed the claymore to his back, again, using just one hand to do it. Altogether, the ensemble was the epitome of intimidating.

"Um. Going off to war?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He ignored me. "You are properly clothed. Let us be off."

* * *

As we walked through Hightown, there was a tense, pregnant silence between us. I had a feeling he wanted to ask more about what all was happening about me and I wanted to ask him if I had seen right and that he really could glow or even if he found me incredibly irritating. That last question had my hackles rising. I mean, I hadn't done anything to be considered irritating, at least, I didn't think so.

Lie.

I probably had said too much earlier. I really needed to learn to keep my nose out of other people's business and keep my mouth shut.

It didn't escape my notice that people were giving Fenris a wide birth and casting him looks—there were a couple looks of fear, even a few of surprise, but more disgust was shot Fenris's way than anything else. It was all rather upsetting. I looked at Fenris. He was a bit in front of me, leading the way but I could still see his face. He held a rather blasé expression, but occasionally I saw a muscle jump near his temple or jaw.

"Hey, so, Hawke said you had lost your memories, but you seem to know what you're doing. Was it . . . not recent then?"

He didn't even glance at me. "Recent enough."

"But you seem to be doing well for yourself, considering." Sighing, I clasped my hands together. "I'm . . . not doing so well. I don't remember how to do a lot of the everyday stuff. Eva had to teach me how to sew and use a washboard and what was okay and what wasn't. It's been hard." I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing, maybe trying to meet him on some familiar ground—because I really wanted to learn how he was getting on with his memory loss—but I also knew I couldn't stand anymore of the oppressive silence. "She thinks I was a noble, before, I mean. I'm not now."

He didn't say anything for a while and I was getting kind of irritated. I was trying to meet him halfway, hell, I was trying to go the entire mile, but the prick was just so obstinate.

"It wasn't easy, at first." He suddenly said. "The only reason I remember what I do is because my master made sure I remembered. But only the things that benefited him, made me more compliant to his whim. There is still a lot I have to remember and learn."

"Oh." That was . . . unexpected. And horrifying. "You know, I'm really sorry. For what happened to you."

Fenris tensed a little. We were getting close to the estate—or at least, I think we were. Things were a little on the familiar side now. "I do not want your pity."

I quickly shook my head. "It's not pity. It's just . . . how can people be so awful? How can you treat another person like that? It's not right and no one should suffer that kind of cruelty. And I'm sorry you were the one who had to face that ugliness. I really am." Then, slowly, because I knew I was headed into dangerous territory, I said, "And I understand why you act the way you do. I do. But maybe . . . if you talked to Hawke more as a friend . . . I don't know, maybe you'll find that things aren't so bad anymore."

He said nothing, looking straight ahead with an unwavering gaze. I sighed and gave up. This man was impossible. But at least he hadn't gone off on me. We arrived at the Hawke estate and Fenris knocked on the door with a heavy hand.

"You are . . . a strange girl." He finally said.

"Yeah, I've gotten that." I said dryly.

"I will . . . consider . . . what you have told me." He said warily.

I beamed at him and he seemed slightly taken aback. "Things will get better. You'll see. And, maybe, once you've talked to Hawke, we can start becoming friends. I wouldn't mind that." The door opened and there stood Bodahn.

"Serah Emma! Welcome back!" He said enthusiastically.

I started heading inside, when I remembered something. I quickly stepped back outside and Fenris turned back around with a questioning look.

"And thank you." I said sincerely. "For saving my life last night. I'm forever in your debt."

* * *

Fenris watched with unflinching eyes as the girl entered the house and Bodahn closed the door with a, "Good day, Messere," at which his ears twitched. He wasn't used to be spoken to with such esteem. Slave had been his name, and he was only called Fenris by that bastard, Danarius, and even then, it was more a title than a name. His 'little wolf' that was held back by a chain and attacked on command.

She had thanked him. She was odd, this Emma. Indeed, her situation was eerily similar to his and he couldn't help but wonder if it was exactly the same. He clenched his teeth and hands as he once again wondered: was she friend or foe? She could be an escaped slave, like him, or, for all he knew, she could be someone sent by Danarius or one of his co-conspirators to hunt him down, find him and play on his sympathies so he would fall into a false sense of trust, and then they would pounce.

No. No, he would keep his eyes on this one. Despite her soft words, she could be a wolf in sheep's clothing, a viper in their midst. A friend with a mage? He snorted. Absurd. They couldn't be trusted, ever. He knew all too well how mages could turn, of their own volition or not. He had been in the middle of mage a mage infested country all his life, right in the heart of corruption—everyone he knew was either a mage or a slave—and not one could be trusted. Conniving, backstabbing, politicians who turned to blood magic on a Tevinter coin.

He shook his head and headed to the docks, to see if he could sniff out any hint of Danarius or his minions. And, maybe, see if he could figure out who sent this fraudulent woman.


	11. Chapter 11: You Didn't Say

**_HEADS UP._** _I added a small section to the end of the previous chapter. Please read it._

 _I'll also forewarn you. This chapter just wasn't coming out right so I decided to do the whole posting and then noting mistakes/ways I can improve and updating with a revised version later. Sorry for all the fuss and thanks for hanging on with me._

 _Also hahaha! I love how you guys are pairing her off with Fenris. Poor girl. Never stood a chance._

 _And lastly, I'm gunna try something new. After the 'Author Comments' I'm going to do a 'Q &A' sort of section, where I respond to comments/questions._

 _Chaitea—Fenris DOES drink more than the average person, at least in my estimation (I mean, I would probably soak myself in it after all the crap Fenris had to endure—I'd rather not remember any of it). And yeah, the whole drinking alcohol because the water was undrinkable is true. Ugh. Can you imagine what kind of water people in real medieval times had? Gah._

 _SNicole25—I feel like I'm spoiling it if I tell you ahead of time who she is and what she did before. But I guess I'll eliminate one possibility—no, she was not a therapist. She's just very perceptive/sensitive to people around her._

 _DarkDust27—haha, I haven't decided myself who she'll wind up with, slash the story is telling itself and I'm just here to put it to paper. We'll have to see, yeah?_

 _Alright! Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 11: But You Didn't Say You Weren't Interested**

"Be careful 'round Hawke." Eva suddenly said.

We had left the estate a while ago. Leandra had bought me an outfit she thought I would like—a tunic, trousers, boots, and because she had noticed that my ears were pierced (something even _I_ hadn't noticed), a pair of simple earrings. I was so touched I almost cried and hugged Hawke's mother. She had coughed her embarrassment and said that Eva had helped her. She said she had wanted to get something better, but Eva had stopped her—she had said I would have been accosted for something so finely made in Lowtown.

Leandra had looked stricken, but understood. She remembered what Lowtown was like. She also got me a nightgown and got Eva new clothes as well. I kind of missed Leandra, but I didn't really miss the estate. It was . . . too massive for me. So big it was suffocating, if that made any sense. I was somewhat relieved when we left and headed back to Lowtown.

Now at Eva's home, we were readying ourselves to go to bed after an exhausting day.

Confused, I shot her a look. "Why?" Then, "Because he's a mage?"

She shook her head. "Not the reason why. Not this time." She sighed and looked off to the side, as if seeing something I wasn't. "He's got a reputation fer bein' . . . a rake."

"A . . . what?" My mind conjured up images of a long-handled . . . metal broom?

"His affections're loose. He attracts women like honey does ta flies." She shook her head. "Heard he frequents The Bloomin' Rose." At my confused look, she said, "A brothel."

Brothel . . . brothel. Oh. I blushed and I blushed hard. A place where women . . . sold their bodies for sex. Oh. Really? I hadn't got that vibe from him. Then again . . . I wasn't sure if I had ever met a man who 'frequents' brothels. Um . . . wait. Eva was acting like—my eyes widened.

"It's not like that!" I squeaked. I mean, Hawke was an attractive guy. Like, really attractive, but no way! "I hardly think that's on the table for me right now. I just-I just want to focus on getting my memories back." Besides, for all I knew, I could be married or even have a significant other waiting for me.

Eva watched me, then huffed. "Ya don't plan onnit, it just happens. So ya be careful 'round him. Promise me."

I wanted to roll my eyes petulantly, but I suppressed it. She was just looking out for me. "I'll be careful, Eva, I promise."

Somewhat mollified, Eva continued with preparing for bed. She went out a ways and tossed out the chamber pot, which I gagged at. Everyone did it here—apparently polluting the street with human waste was common. Disgusting. But now that I thought about it, Hightown didn't have human waste mucking up the streets. I wondered why. Did they have someone cleaning the streets or—I had a flash of, what? Metal . . . pipes? Water running through them? Plumbing! It was called plumbing! It flushed away human waste. Where to, I had no idea, but I wondered if maybe Hightown had plumbing.

"You'll be headin' ta The Hanged Man tamorrer?"

And just like that I was reminded of everything. Running, struggling, the pain and panic. Barden's death, Corff being knocked out—

"Donovan!" I suddenly shouted. I whirled on Eva and gripped her shoulders tight when she got near me. "What happened to Donovan! He was there last night!"

"Calm yerself down!" Eva raised her voice to be heard over me. "He's fine. He was with Corff this mornin'. He was werried about ya, too."

A hand went to my heart. I had no idea where he had gone during the whole thing, but I was so glad he was okay. "Yes." I breathed. "Yes, I-I'll be going back to the tavern." I gave her a wry smile. "Can't afford not to, right?"

* * *

Hawke rubbed his temples as he bid Aveline goodnight. That woman was like a druffalo—charging headlong with her morals held tightly to her chest. But she could be a headache with her unmoving ways and constant nagging of his shady dealings. He understood, he really did. But one had to do what one had to do to survive here. Thank God for Varric and naïve little Merill, both making him laugh, one intentional and the other by accident.

He rolled his neck and then his tense shoulders. He had a vague feeling that the Guard-Captain was trying to keep him busy and therefore out of trouble. Not that it would work. Trouble seemed to always find him, no matter what he did.

Sometimes he had a hard time thinking too far ahead.

He almost laughed as he remembered how he had just assumed Fenris would be okay with him hurling fire magic at someone. That had been a miscalculation. His Teven was rusty, but he was pretty sure that the elf had threatened to rip his intestines out. To be honest, he had thought that the three or so years he and Fenris had known each other they had developed some semblance of trust, but he wasn't so sure now.

That aside, he wondered how Fenris and Emma had gotten on. It had been impulsive, but it was the first time Fenris had shown genuine interest in another person rather than an interest fueled by malice or suspicion—the elf was paranoid, but who could blame him when it had saved his hide, literally, more times than they could count?

Hopefully, the common ground that the girl and elf shared would develop into a friendship, something Fenris needed. Or, at the very least, he would feel more willing to share information, such as how to cope with memory loss. Truthfully, Hawke was worried about the man, worried about the self-destructive path he was barreling down, aware or not. The stupid, paranoid, insufferable . . .

He hadn't even been aware he had entered his estate until Bodahn welcomed him. "It's late, Bodahn. You were relieved from your post a while ago. Get some rest."

"As you wish, Messere. Come on Sandal."

"Enchantment!"

Hawke watched silently as Sandal and Bodahn left for the servant quarters for the night, then shook his head. Such strange dwarves. As he entered the main parlor, he was greeted by the soft bark of Bruiser who was laying down by his mother's feet. She was reading a book when she looked up and smiled at him.

He raised his brows in surprise. "Why are you still up?"

She closed her book and stood, Bruiser following suit. "Waiting for you, dear."

He sighed as he peeled over his overcoat and hung it on a post as Leandra came to his side. "I've told you. Don't. You worry too much and you need your sleep."

"As do you." He leaned down as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek in welcome. "And I'm a mother. Worrying is what I do."

"Mother—"

"Enough." She said sharply. "I'm allowed my worry, what with you gallivanting off to who knows where and what with what happened to—" She quickly closed her mouth with an audible click, quickly masking the pain on her face.

Feeling contrite, Hawke hung his head. "I'm sorry, mother."

They'd already been through this. They both felt the death of Bethany hard—to have such a good, happy soul taken from them was unimaginable. The death of Carver, his stubborn and impossible baby brother, had been another blow, and both deaths still lingered in their minds and souls. The Blight had taken so much from them. Home, choices, family.

"Go to bed." Hawke commanded gently. "I will be in the study, should you need me."

"You're not turning in for the night?" She asked, surprised.

"Not yet. I wanted to research something."

Leandra raised her eyebrow knowingly. "Does this have to do with that pretty girl who gave us the pleasure of her company earlier today?"

"Maybe." He saw the look in her eye. "Don't, mother. I don't have the time for romantic relationships." Because, by all accounts, Emma was not a woman for a one-night indiscretion. She was too fierce and . . . something. She was something. He wanted to laugh but stopped himself. He had only known her but a handful of hours and yet here he was, thinking he already knew her. His mother's knowing grin made him focus on her.

"Ah, but you didn't say you're not interested."

A sly grin crossed Hawke's face. "Always so clever, mother. Now shoo. Go to bed." He gently turned and pushed his mother to the steps that led to the bedrooms. She tutted, but did as asked. His mother had been trying to set him up with a number of women, especially as of late. She wanted him to not be lonely, he knew that, but he also knew she didn't want to be lonely anymore. A daughter-in-law and then grandchildren would ensure that. His heart clenched. His mother needed someone to talk to. She occasionally talked to neighboring nobles, but from what he could tell, they turned their noses up at a lowborn among them. That, or they recognized the Hawke name and remembered the high-esteem with which they used to be seen in according to the Viscount.

In other words, not real friends. No one to laugh or share anger or cry with.

Hawke suddenly thought of today, of Emma and Eva. Eva and his mother had gotten along well, or so it seemed. His mother seemed to even favor Emma—probably because she was the same age as Bethany would have been. A smile pulled at his lips. Maybe . . .

With an idea in mind, he went to his study.

* * *

 _"_ _Find the healer once more. Find him, and he will help you find Hope._

 _Hope will lead the way."_

* * *

Eva walked me to The Hanged Man, saying she had something to do in the area, but I knew she was worried. I acted as calm and confident as I could, like everything was fine. In reality, I was shoving back a bunch of emotions—fear and anger being primary among them. I reminded myself that the men who had been after me and the ones who had attacked me were all dead. There was no one else and I didn't have to be afraid anymore, nor was there a need for me to keep glancing at every alley or dark corner. It didn't make my fear go away or make me stop searching for attackers, but I kept reminding myself.

As soon as we got to the backdoor, Eva told me she needed to head out and said goodbye, but not before saying she might stop by later. The moment I stepped into The Hanged Man and saw Donovan, I rushed to him and gave him a hug. He pushed me away, but looked me over.

"I'm fine." I assured.

He lifted my chin where my cut—which, again, had healed unnaturally fast (what ingredients in a salve _did_ that?)—was a silvery scar. He frowned. "I wouldn'a say that."

Instead of dwelling on it, I pushed on. "Where did you go last night? I was so worried."

He shook his head, folding flour his arms. "'Ad to go 'ome early. Mah lil' girl 'as been sick."

I was momentarily floored. Since when did Donovan have kids? Then again, I had never asked Donovan—or anyone really—personal questions. I felt like it was unfair, that they would answer and then I wouldn't be able to give them anything of equal value back, not because I didn't want to, but because I literally had nothing to tell them.

"Is . . . is she okay?"

He sighed, looking worn. "She's got a fever. He turned around and started kneading the dough on the table. I had a suspicion he was using it to release his tension. "Dunno whot ta do no more." He suddenly pounded a fist into the dough. "But I shoulda been here. Mayhap if I had been, Barden would be alive and ya woulda—"

"I don't think you could have done anything Donovan. I'm just happy you weren't involved." I cut in. Maybe he could have done something, but it was in the past and I wouldn't begrudge him checking in on his daughter. It actually made my chest hurt—had I had a father who checked in on me when I had been sick?

He stared at me, one eye squinted. He shook his head. "Yer too good fer this place. I 'eard that Hawke feller came ta the rescue. Lucky, that was."

I nodded as I set in and helped prepare the dough into loaves.

"Where ya able ta talk to 'is 'ealer friend?"

I nodded, setting the bread into the greased molds. "Yes, but . . . he said he can't help me."

"I'm sorry ta 'ear that. I really am." We worked in silence for a good while, both of us sweating because of the heat of the oven. "So whot's the plan now, then?"

I shrugged. "I guess . . . I wait and see what comes back to me. It's not ideal, but . . ."

I worried my lip. There had to be another, quicker way. I missed my family, whoever they were and I missed the half of me that was gone with my memories. Whispered words floated into my head from a dream last night. What did that even mean?

"Well, whotever 'appens, ya got Eva'n me."

I was slightly surprised by how soft Donovan was being.

"And me!" Corff cut in, coming in through the door.

I smiled. "How's the head?"

He rubbed his head, then grimaced—still sore then. "It's been better, but I'm alive, yeah?"

Donovan snorted. "Wouldn't exactly call ya a 'elp."

"Your confidence in me is astounding." Corff said cheerfully. Donovan rolled his eyes. Corff nudged me with his elbow. "He's been frettin' for a while now about ya. Won't admit it, but he was worried sick. He was blamin' hisself fer what happened."

Donovan straightened, flustered. "Enough! Out with ya, ya whelp!"

Corff laughed and skipped off to his bar. He poked his head around the doorway to say, "I'm glad yer okay, Emma. I was worried too, ta be honest."

"Think 'e fancies ya." Donovan noted, pulling on a ratty coat.

I waved it off, not even dignifying his comment with a response. "Where are you going?" I asked curiously.

"Gotta 'ead ta the docks. Thinkin' 'bout changin' up the menu a bit taday. Master Varric gave me quite a bit allowance wise."

"What are you getting at the docks that you can't get at the Lowtown market?"

"Fish." He said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. And I guess it was.

"Oh. Can I come?"

Donovan raised an eyebrow at me. "I don't need yer 'elp."

I was getting a bit excited. "But I've never been to the docks. I want to see it for myself." To be honest, as soon as he had mentioned the docks, I had remembered Eva talking about the Qunari compound. _That_ was the real reason I wanted to go down to the docks. I had glimpsed a hulking, grey mass from affair as I walked to and from The Hanged Man, but I wanted to _see_ more, to _know_ more about these frightening giants. According to tavern patrons, they were intimidating as hell, stoic, and kept to themselves—and they were heading to an all-out blowout with the Chantry (whatever that meant).

. . . . and I wanted to get out of the tavern. I thought I could handle going back so soon, but I was starting to shake. I needed to get out and take my mind off of last night. Exploring and learning new things sounded like a good way to do both.

Donovan seemed right confused, then he shrugged. "Come on then. Corff! Ya man the tavern! Me'n Emma're goin' ta the docks!"

"Sounds good ta me!"

"I'll know if ya sip from mah bottles!"

There was a sound of glass bottles clinking together that had me hiding a grin.

* * *

Even this early, the docks were bustling. Men were either hauling nets onto their boats and casting off or men were returning with their catches. Some of the moored vessels out in the bay were magnificent looking, but my stomach turned at the thought of being on one. Apparently, on top of hating being _in_ water, I hated being _on_ water. It made me nervous. But I couldn't deny the well-made vessels—these stood out among the smaller vessels that were tied to the docks, some looking like they were patched together with driftwood.

The men were gruff looking, usually bearded, and almost everyone was covered in tattoos. I had the impression that—sailors! They're called sailors!—were approximately the same where I came from. Kind of? It was a confusing impression.

Everything was new to me, nothing familiar to me, so I was fascinated by everything I saw. There was a crane like contraption that was currently lying dormant; another vessel was currently unloading lowing cattle that scrambled for purchase on the worn, smooth wooden docks; there was a man holding a clipboard, looking bored as another man yelled at him about something.

I was a bit disappointed as I had yet to spy a grey giant or a place where they might be housed. Donovan didn't really allow for much exploration as he was a man on a mission. He beelined it straight for the tiny fish market. He grabbed a basket and began haggling over prices with the vender. It was interesting to watch for a time, but I quickly lost interest. Sitting on some crates, I watched what was happening around me. Some kids were playing around, weaving through the crowd adeptly. There was a man who was rubbing his beck, wincing, and then a man dressed in fine cloth arguing with woman—holy shit, she was scantily clad. I blushed. Like, what the hell? I glanced around me, but other than a few stares from men, no one seemed outraged. So . . . were outfits like that acceptable?

My eyes skipped over the woman and man and then I blinked. I watched as a cohort of grey giants—they were so much bigger than Maraas!—marched through the crowd and I immediately felt a different vibe from them than from Maraas or the other Tal-Vashoth. They seemed . . . indifferent, but alert, like a predator who was currently sated, but watching for their next meal. All of them had impressive, whole horns, which almost looked polished . . . maybe they were? Some wore helmets and all were armed to the teeth. And all of them bore red and white paint on their upper torsos.

And every single creature was giving them a wide birth, terrified looks cast their way, that or anger.

I didn't even know I was following them until I bumped into somebody. The man cursed at me and I winced at his burning words. Settle down, yeesh. I glanced back up to find them disappear into . . . ah. The compound, I was guessing. The walls, which I guessed encompassed the compound, were freaking tall. I wanted to say they were thick, too, but I wasn't sure. I took a few more steps and saw the entrance, which was a metal gate that a brooding Qunari man shut behind the group of his fellows. Looking around, I suddenly realized how close to the stairs up to Lowtown they were. It dawned on me that Donovan had avoided coming close to the compound and had taken one of three other paths that went around it.

It was weird thinking that Donovan was even nervous around them.

"You don't seem scared."

I started, straightened, a hand brushing against my blade, and then I turned to my left. The first thing I noted about the man standing next to me with a small smile on his face was his electric blue eyes. How could that be natural? He had a full head of black hair that was swept back, but stood up as if tousled. I glanced down at his clothes. Oh, wow. Must be a noble. My eyes went back to his face, as my curiosity got the better of me. He was young, but older than me? Maybe? Considering I didn't know my age, I couldn't be sure. He had . . . such kind eyes, though.

"Why should I be scared?" I asked hesitantly.

His brows raised in surprise, almost to his hairline, really. "Well, if you believe the rumors, they're here to subjugate us and make us their slaves and so on and so on." He waved his hand, as if waving the rumors off.

"But you disagree?" I asked slowly.

His eyes crinkled slight as he smiled. "I've learned to reserve my judgement until I have gathered all the facts."

"Huh." I turned to look at the compound again. "I've met a few of them before."

"Have you?" He asked enquiringly.

"The first weren't so nice, but the last took care of me and got me here." I said cautiously not sure how much I wanted this stranger to know.

"Yes, they can be abrasive." _Abrasive doesn't cover it, buddy_ , I thought wearily. But I kept my thoughts to myself. "I have been coming here whenever I can, so I can learn about them. We so rarely interact, unless we're at war or disagreeing about something. I'm seizing this opportunity to learn as much about them and their culture as I can."

"And they just . . . let you in?" I gestured to the rather mean looking guard, with his folded arms, looking as intimidating as could be. I mean, anyone who stood at eight plus feet was intimidating enough. Add on a scowl, bulging muscles, and horns and you've got a nightmare personified.

"I had to earn their trust." He watched me.

"How did you do that?"

He shrugged. "That has been a mystery to me, as well."

A flash of white had my head turning and I was vaguely surprised to find Fenris easily weaving through the crowd despite his height or the huge sword strapped to his back. To be frank, I was ashamed. I mean, I had said a lot of stuff to him before I had escaped inside yesterday. I had just assumed a lot of things. Maybe he already had friends. Maybe Hawke and Fenris both had an understanding and neither party wanted to be friends. Who was I to presume to know how he felt, especially after being a slave? Slavery . . . that was . . . that was a beast to haunt you for a long time, if not all your life.

He hadn't seemed to want me to poke around and I had anyway.

"Someone you know?" The man next to me asked.

I nodded, my eyes following Fenris as he started climbing the steps to the Qunari compound. I watched in disbelief as he spoke with the gate guard and then watched as he went inside the walls. I started forward a bit. What? What, what, what? Did he know the Qunari? Why would they just let him in? I was so, so, so confused.

"Your friend seems to be a friend of the Qunari." The man seemed impressed.

Apparently. I was brimming with questions, but I had no one to answer them. Reality came slamming back into me and with horror, I realized I had left Donovan without letting him know I had even left. Crap! Bad, Emma! Especially after what happened!

"It was nice meeting you, but I have to go!"

"Oh, ah. It was nice meeting you too!" He shouted after me.

As I got closer to the fish market, I heard my name being shouted and my face burned with a blush. "Here! Donovan, I'm here!"

Donovan, who had been frantically searching for me, visibly relaxed when he saw me. Then he stiffened and scowled at me. "Don't ya just go'n run off like that! 'Ad me worried, ya did!"

* * *

 _Can anyone guess who the stranger was? ~Inkraven_


	12. Chapter 12: Just Warn Me Before

_This one was oddly fun to write, so I hope you have at least a bit of the fun I had reading it._

 _Guys . . . Get ready for the next couple of chapters. Again, the story is writing itself, but I have a feeling big things are soon to come._

 _Also, my chapter titles suck, so if you have any ideas, throw them at me._

 _ENJOY!_

 _Review Responses/Q &A_

 _SNicole25—Ding Ding Ding! You got it right :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Just Warn Me Before**

I dove headfirst into my waitressing. I found that working, focusing on orders, serving said orders, and cleaning took my mind off what happened last night. I caught the eyes of a couple men, men I recognized from that night, who had fled rather than staying and helping. I locked gazes with them and felt a kind of sick satisfaction when they quickly looked away, suddenly interested in their belly buttons.

Cowards.

But I didn't dwell on them—they were the ones who had to live with themselves. As the day wore on, I found that the more I pretended that I was enjoying myself and that the night before hadn't affected me as much as it had, the more it became true. Sometime after noon, a man with a strange looking instrument was sitting by the hearth, playing a lively tune that filled the tavern. I found myself moving to the beat, subtly at first—how I weaved through the seated patrons, how I placed my feet, or set down plates. Then more boldly as I twirled and dipped.

I didn't know if I was any good at the sloppy attempts at dancing, but that didn't matter. I got a few whistles and cheers, but overall, I was surprisingly not harassed. I briefly wondered why, but I didn't want to jinx myself by thinking too long on it.

The musician stayed for a long time, all the way into the night—Corff informed me, later, that he was renting a room for the night and that he would be gone by the morning. That made me a little sad. I would like every day to be filled with music, like it had been today.

Currently, I was sitting down on one of the stools at the bar, nibbling on a bit of bread. Corff was trying to clean a mug with a dirty rag. I gestured to the rag, and after gulping down my bite, said, "Kinda counterproductive, cleaning a dirty mug with a dirty rag."

"I just wanted ta look busy." He huffed, then laughed.

I smiled, flicking a bit of bread at him. "You really are a layabout. By the way, did you see Eva come in today?"

"Ah, yeah. She came in through the kitchen. She came out here, smiled, and left."

"I would have liked to say hello." I mused.

He shrugged. "She prolly saw how ya was doin' and didn't wanna interrupt ya."

"Yeah. I can see her doing that."

Corff smiled, then glanced up and over my head, towards the entrance. "Looks like Hawke'n his crew are here."

Curious, I turned in my seat to spy Hawke walking through the crowd, which parted for him and his companions to pass. What an intimidating and strange lot. By his side was Anders and both were discussing something. Trailing behind them was—oh. It was the woman from the docks, the one who's attire bordered on obscene. Go figure. And then, not far behind, was the scowling elf, Fenris.

"Varric!" Hawke called, smiling and breaking away from Anders. Varric, the dwarf I hadn't really seen but glimpses of since the night of the attack, had just come down from the sleeping quarters, smiling. Hawke grasped the dwarf's arm, hand to elbow, and the dwarf copied. That was a . . . strange greeting. In my head, I saw hands shaking. Was that . . . wrong? Was it yet another thing that got mixed up in my head? They all went to a table in the back corner, close to the other, smaller fireplace. They looked like they were having fun, laughing with each other. Varric laid cards on the table and everyone excitedly picked up the hands they were dealt. Well, everyone except for the healer and Fenris. Fenris looked disinterested whereas Anders watched on with interest.

Suddenly, my dreams from last night hit me with clarity. Find the healer once more . . . Okay. I mean . . . it was just a dream, but I remembered what Hawke (or was it Anders?) who said dreams were a part of the Fade or something? I shivered. No way was a . . . a demon talking to me. It was just a dream, maybe a subconscious me trying to lead me down the right path, but just a dream. Right?

"I'll . . . be right back." I said with a tad of uncertainty. As far as I could tell, nothing went as planned with Hawke.

I slipped from my stool and headed to the back table, where Hawke was shouting and accusing Varric—who wore a smirk but had his hands raised in surrender—of cheating. The woman was laughing and even Anders was smiling. So . . . not a hostile interaction, then.

When I got close, Hawke spotted me. He looked surprised, but it was chased away by a smile.

"Emma! I didn't expect you to be working today. Come and sit! There's an empty spot by Broodypants over there."

Everyone at that table turned to look at me and I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. But I pretended I was brave, straightened myself and smiled. I could feel Fenris's suspicious gaze boring into me.

"I . . . actually wanted to speak with Anders."

Anders perked up and his molten gaze watched me intently. "Yes?"

I was profoundly aware of all the eyes on us and . . . well, damnit, this was my business. I didn't need _everyone_ to know what was going on with me. "Can we speak? In _private_?" I emphasized.

"Oooh! Well, well, well, Golden Boy, looks like you're getting lucky tonight!" The dark skinned woman hooted, shooting a wink my way.

I shot her an incredulous, indignant look, before deciding to ignore her completely. Anders stood up and gestured for me to lead the way. I walked up the flight of stairs and into the hallway that led into the sleeping quarter area. I stopped and turned to face Anders. I suddenly felt . . . kinda stupid and nervous.

I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"I . . . look, this sounds crazy, but . . . I had a dream and . . . and it told me I needed to find you. Again."

Anders was incredibly alert now, looking slightly concerned. "A dream, you say?"

"Yeah. Look, I know it sounds insane, but you said that dreams and the Fade are connected and . . . I dunno!" I was worrying my lip like crazy, anxiety pounding through me.

"Tell me exactly what happened in this dream."

"I really don't remember anything except . . . a voice, telling me to find you. It said that you'd help me find hope and that hope would lead the way."

"And . . . this voice. You did not fear it?"

"No? I mean, I don't know. It's just a dream, right? What's there to fear?"

Anders looked _very_ concerned now. "Dreams are never just dreams." He rubbed the stubble on his chin, considering something. "This sounds like a matter Justice will have to weigh in on. And the only way to do that would be to enter the Fade."

"Okay . . . ?"

"Tomorrow. Take the day off and come to my clinic."

This was all very strange to me, but I nodded my head, assuring myself that another day of missed wages wouldn't kill me. I had some money tucked away. "Okay. Um . . . it's in Darktown, right?"

That gave him pause as he looked me over. "Yes. But be sure to wear your worst clothing and do nothing that attracts attention. I will meet you at the entranceway in Lowtown."

"And where is that?"

"It is just passed the mainway to the Docks. You'll see another set of stairs leading down. Small, narrow. Easy to miss. Go down those stairs and at the bottom is where I'll be waiting. Do not enter without me." He warned.

I shivered, remembering Eva's words. "Okay."

Ander's nodded, as if sealing the deal. "Let us get back to the others before the gossip gets out of control."

He put his hand at the small of my back and urged me back into the dining hall, back towards Hawke's table. Varric was pulling a bunch of coins his way, smirking. "House always wins, Hawke. You know that."

Hawke huffed and flung himself back on his chair. "One of these days, I'm going to figure out how you do it, and I'm going to beat you at your own game."

Varric winked. "You're years too young to even try."

Hawke scoffed, but smiled in good humor. His eyes slid to me and he brightened up. "Back, already?"

"That was quick." The woman said. It sounded innocent, but the look on her face was not.

I didn't like this woman so far. Like, at all.

"Ignore her." Hawke said, shoving a hand in her face. She playfully nipped at his hand. "So, why don't you join us? Care to try your hand at Wicked Grace?" He gestured to the cards on the table.

Anders took a seat sipping whatever was in his cup. I shook my head. "I have to get back to work."

"Oh, no you don't. Corff's got it handled." Varric cut in, a glint in his eye.

"But—"

"Look, arguing with your boss probably isn't the smartest move."

That shut me up and had me sitting down next to Fenris again.

Varric seemed momentarily stunned, then he laughed. "I didn't mean I was going to fire you! I was joking! Joking!"

And how was I supposed to know that? I thought, indignantly. Still, I blushed.

The dwarf slapped his hand on the table. "She takes a joke about as well as you do, Broody."

I couldn't help the glance I shot towards the elf. His eyes never wavered in his stare. I quickly looked back at Varric as he dealt me a hand of cards.

I picked up the cards and my face must have read as "what the hell is this?" because Varric laughed.

"Never played Wicked Grace before?"

"Not that I know of."

Varric rubbed his hands together. "Perfect. Let me explain."

Varric dove into explaining the rules and mechanics and risk that was involved in the game, but honestly, I didn't understand the half of it. With barely a grasp of the rules, they started up another round and I quickly found I was out of my league. Though I wound up losing, I had to admit, I had fun. Hawke demanded another round and they had tried dealing me in, but I was content to observe. Anders, who always seemed the first to leave whatever gathering, had excused himself and patted my shoulder as he passed.

"You and the abomination seem close."

I nearly jumped as Fenris's voice rumbled into my ear. I shot him a confused look from the corner of my eye. "Abomination?" I slowly connected the dots. "Anders? You mean Anders?" I puckered my lips. "What do you mean by abomination?"

He just glared at me and said absolutely nothing.

I leaned back and turned to face him. Scowl for scowl. Yeah, I felt guilty for poking my nose into his business, but geez. This guy needed an attitude change. "Fine. Don't answer. I don't see how it's any of your business anyway."

He visibly tensed as I turned back around to stringently ignore him. Though I tried to appear otherwise unperturbed, I was seething inside. Again, I forced myself to remember that the man had gone through hell and I was positive that changed a person. _Just ignore him._ After a while, I kind of got the hang of the game and decided to join in on another round. Hawke's draw dropped as I bumped the dark-skinned woman, then him out of the turn until it was just me and Varric.

"How in the Maker's name did you catch on so fast?" Hawke demanded as he threw down his hand. Furrowing his brow, he grumbled, "I've been hustled."

I shrugged. "Believe whatever makes you feel better."

The woman and Varric laughed. Varric leaned forward. "Hawke is a sore loser. So . . . care to place a wager? We let you play with no risk before, but now . . . now I feel like we need some excitement."

I smiled fiercely at him. I had learned that this game had a lot to do with bluffing your ass off and slight of hand. "Alright. I'm in. What did you have in mind?"

"Favors."

"Favors? Like, I owe you, you owe me? That doesn't sound very . . . risky."

Varric grinned. "Ah, but you haven't truly grasped the subtlety nor gravity of a favor, my dear. Maybe my favor will be showing up on your doorstep with a body and needing your help disposing of it, no questions asked?"

I shot him a quizzical look. "Okay . . . sure. Why not?"

"You accepted that far too easily."

"One, I trust you won't do anything I'd refuse to do." Or so I thought. From what I had seen, the man acted like he was a scoundrel but he seemed anything but. Plus, he was a friend of Hawke—I had already established I trusted the man and therefore, those he called friends. I glanced at Fenris—or allies of frenemies or whatever the hell Fenris was. "Second, I'm winning anyway."

There was a whistle from Hawke and both he and the dark-skinned woman leaned forward, interested. There was a gleam in Varric's eye. "Alright. May the best of us—and therefore, me—win."

I just grinned and off we went. Not four draws later and the Angel of Death was drawn. We stared at each other as we placed our hands down. I grinned triumphantly and glanced down at his hands. Shocked, I jumped to my feet.

"Not possible!" I shouted.

Four dagger cards were staring up at me. Hawke huffed and leaned back as the woman took a swig of her drink, shrugging. Varric leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head with a sly smile.

"I counted!" I said, completely bewildered. Then my eyes shot to Varric. "You cheated." I realized.

Varric gave a wide-eyed, innocent look. "Me? Why, I would never!"

A short laughed escaped me. I should have known. I had suspected cheating was a part of the game, but as far as I recalled, I never once caught him cheating. This man was ridiculously good at this game. I sighed and sat down, folding my arms.

"I've tried to catch him cheating for three years. Don't take it personally." Hawke offered, chuckling.

"Right." Varric rubbed his hands together gleefully as he straightened. "About that favor."

I groaned. "What do you want, Varric?"

"Simply the pleasure of your company." I shot him a wary look. His spread his arms wide, as if showing me he had nothing to hide. "I'm sure you've heard, but I love hearing stories and telling them. Since I've first heard of your tale, I've been dying to hear it from your own lips. Does that sound agreeable?"

Actually, that made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. It was like I was being dissected so that there were no secrets kept, nothing that was solely mine. But, truthfully? I had nothing to tell, nothing much of a story. More like a brief footnote in some book.

"I guess. I think you just wasted your favor, though."

"I highly doubt it. I'll collect on my favor sometime soon, I promise. As for now . . ." Varric stood, stretching. "It's late. I'm going to bid you good night and politely ask you all to get the hell out so Donovan can close. It was nice to officially meet you Emma." He winked at me as he headed to his room.

Everyone stood around the table. The woman kissed Hawke on the cheek. "Care to join me tonight?"

A fierce blush immediately colored my cheeks. Hawke shook his head, but not in a repulsed or nonplussed way. "Not tonight, Isabela."

 _Not tonight_. I repeated in my head. But maybe some other night. Right. Eva had warned me he was 'loose with his affections.' Of course, this woman didn't seem far off that description either.

The woman shrugged. "You know where to find me, should you change your mind, love." She turned to Fenris. "You too, handsome." _Yup. Loose with her affections. To a T._ Funny thing was, Fenris's face burst into a blush as well.

Isabela laughed and sauntered off to the sleeping area, where Varric had gone.

"Go on ahead, Fenris. I'll walk you home, Emma."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." That was . . . actually a relief.

Hawke shot me a smile, edging around the table to stand by my side. A muscle in Fenris's jaw jumped, but he gave a tight nod and left. Lacing his elbow through mine, Hawke asked, "Shall we, then?"

* * *

There was an easy silence between Hawke and me was we headed through Lowtown. Though he appeared at ease, I saw how Garrett Hawke kept close eye on darkened corners, doorways, and alleys. I was immediately put at ease by his vigilant nature and the warm touch of his arm against mine. So different from that jerk.

Cold, distant, indifferent.

I shook the elf out of my thoughts, not wanting to sour the mood.

"So." Hawke's voice cut through the night, making me turn my attention to him. "I have an idea. I thought I'd pass it by you."

"What is it?"

"My mother doesn't have many friends. We're from Ferelden, so there's a strike right there. And many nobles won't be seen with her because we initially came from Lowtown, while others simply seek her favor for our name. Lowtowners don't treat us as they did before. What's more, the Hawke estate is filled mostly with men. My mother is in sore need for some female companionship, I think."

While all of this was frustrating to hear, I tried to figure out what he was getting at.

"I was thinking I'd hire Eva as my mother's handmaiden. I haven't met many people as loyal as she is, not in this city, and I have yet to meet a woman with as much steel as my mother. What do you think?"

I was stunned into silence for a good few minutes as we got ever closer to my home. Eva and Leandra had seemed to get along quite well—a miracle, since both were headstrong, whirlwinds of women. I'd never seen Eva laugh like she had with Leandra.

"It's here." I murmured, pulling Hawke to Eva's home. We stopped before the door and Hawke watched me carefully. "I'm not sure what to say. I'm not Eva, so I can't speak for her. But . . ." I locked gazes with him, my mouth in a set line. Then I let a smile break through. "I think you are a very kind man. And I think Eva, after saying she doesn't need your pity and that she isn't suitable, would be overjoyed. That's what I think."

He smiled wide. "Good. I'll talk to her tomorrow, shall I?"

"Thank you, Hawke."

He waved it off, as if it was nothing. "It's all for purely selfish reasons."

"That's a lie." I said seriously. "You may try and fool others, but you're a very selfless man. Actions speak louder than words and intent means more than outcome." He was giving me this funny look, as if breaking me apart and putting me back together, trying to figure me out. As I opened the door to the shack, I realized I had never thanked Hawke, not for my rescue. "And thank you, for saving me. I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't done what you did."

I closed the door, not able to understand the expression on his face.

* * *

 _"Wake up. You have an appointment to keep."_

* * *

I don't know how, what with my aversion to mornings (and getting up before them), but I got up earlier than usual and, therefore, before Eva. The sun hadn't risen, the sky still lit by a moon about to set. Groggily, I staggered to my feet, pulling on my clothing and stashing my knife in the belt and sheathe Leandra had bought me. I pulled my hair and tied it lazily with a leather thong to keep it out of my eyes. I rubbed said eyes to wipe away the sleep, then dipped my hands into the basin with some fresh water and splashed my face with the ice cold liquid to wake up more.

"Hm? Emma?" Eva murmured sleepily.

"I'm heading off early. Donovan . . . needs me to help with some things before the tavern opened." The lie stumbled out of my mouth, blockish and not at all believable. Thank God that Eva was half asleep, as she just grunted and went back to sleep, snoring softly.

I closed the door softly behind me, repeating Anders's words in my head nonstop, so I didn't miss a thing. Belatedly, I realized I wasn't wearing ratty clothes, like he had instructed, but . . . I didn't have ratty clothes, not anymore. So I needed to be vigilant, careful, and with a hand not too far from my knife. Especially if Darktown was as dangerous as Eva said . . . and Anders implied.

Anders was right, though. I almost missed the narrow staircase that led steeply down and to the mouth of a . . . tunnel? Cave? Probably a combination between the two. A single lantern, hanging from a hook, dimly illuminated the entrance. Anders said he'd be waiting for me, but I didn't see him. I sat down by the mouth of the cave. I shivered, curling in on myself to retain warmth—I should have brought my coat. Then again, if my clothes didn't tempt someone to mug me, a coat definitely would. With that frightening thought in mind, I unsheathed my knife and held it close to me.

Let someone try and mug me. They'd regret it for the rest of their life.

* * *

Apparently, I had dozed off, because I heard voices coming down the steps. I stood up, the knife held tightly in my hand. It wasn't Anders.

Sure enough, two men walked into view, both leaning on each other with one leaning more heavily on the other. They were talking about their visit to with . . . a lady of the night, to put it politely. I could smell the liquor from here. Fantastic. In their inebriated state, it took them until they were ten feet from me to notice me. They stared at me dumbly for a moment and I was strangely calm. Maybe because, whatever their intentions, they couldn't possibly be as dangerous as Beardo and his men, who were dressed in sleek armor and obviously trained in what weapons they carried.

"What're ya doin' out 'ere all alone, love?" One slurred. "Lookin' fer companeh?"

"What're ya doin' in fronta entrance ta da unnerbelly?" The other giggled, finding something funny. "Unnerbelly. Unnerbelly! Hey! Sounds like 'on 'er belly!' Like tha' whore was for us!" He guffawed, showing his near toothless mouth. His jostling nearly tipped both over.

His laugh, his very person was offensive to me. "Be on your way." I snarled.

One of them raised his hands in surrender. "Sounds like a noble, Barat. Le's leave 'er be."

"Never 'ad a noble afer. Think they're as soft as they look?" The other man wondered. "Tha bitches from Derktown're so bony. No cushion."

I shivered. "Leave!"

"Alright, alright. Com'on, Barat. Need ta sleep off all we drunk. We dun need no guards comin' after us fer yer stupidity."

The man pulled his companion along. I never took my eyes off them, even when the cave swallowed them whole. I took a shaky breath, but never once sheathed my blade. After a while, I sat back down and I watched as the sky started turning a grey, blue color as dawn set in, all the while alert for any sound or movement from within the cave or from the stairs.

It was long until I heard someone walking out of the cave. I quickly stood, the knife, ready, in my hand. I sighed in relief as Anders appeared before me, looking surprised to see me.

"Have you been waiting?"

"Not long." I shrugged and the movement made the dim light from the lantern glance off my blade. Anders eyes zeroed in on it, eyes narrowing as they looked me over.

"Did you run into trouble? I thought I told you to wear not such eye-catching clothing?"

"No . . . I scared off potential trouble, but that's all. And this was all I had . . ."

Anders shook his head. "You were lucky then. Few that call Darktown home would be scared off by a girl and a knife. Very few."

I shivered. Did I really want to go down there? "Do we really have to do . . . whatever it is you want to do, down in there?"

He nodded. "Performing magic anywhere besides my clinic is too risky. Have no fear. I will keep you safe." He gave me a soft smile and I was somewhat mollified. He gestured for me to come to his side and I readily did. "Follow me and stay close."

He guided me into the tunnel, where he took out his staff and whispered something, the end lighting up and chasing off the darkness. He led me pretty far in and I noted the ground was slightly sloping down. We came to a pit with a . . . a pulley system? to the side which connected to some kind of platform at ground level. The word elevator came to mind, but what I saw in my mind was nothing like what I saw before me. This looked old, worn, and ready to fall apart. I slowed down as Anders fearlessly stepped onto the platform and turned around to give me an expectant look.

Ha ha. Hell no. "No way in hell am I stepping onto that."

"It is safe." Anders assured.

"It looks ready to collapse!"

Anders sighed. "I promise you, it is safe. Now, please. I'd rather we not waste time."

I bit my lip, weighing my fear and my goal. Giving a frustrated wail, I hesitantly stepped onto the deathtrap until I stood before the healer. Anders pulled a leaver and slowly, very slowly, we started descending into the pit. It took what felt like for-freaking-ever for us to reach the bottom.

When we did, Anders pulled me close and started up a brusque pace. He was walking so rapidly I didn't catch much but Lowtown looked like paradise compared to this place. Eva had said that Dartown was where the slaves used to work, mining for their masters, or so I assumed. So there were stalactites and stalagmites all over the place, looking like convenient locations for a person to trip and impale themselves on. Everyone looked so emaciated, deathly pale, and . . . so lifeless, with very few exceptions here and there and those exceptions either looked like _very_ dangerous people or like they were selling wares—illegal wares that probably cost an arm and a leg (literally, maybe). Waste was everywhere and the air stunk of it and unwashed bodies.

There was no hope here. Why should there be? This was hell.

Anders took me down and up small flights of stairs and a slight breeze and the faint call of seagulls had me look to my right. A wall had been carved so there were small, crude windows. I could see the harbor from here through those slight windows.

"Here we are." Anders said, opening a door and gently urging me inside.

I was completely silent as I entered Anders's clinic, overwhelmed by the little I had taken in. How could a city allow this to happen to its citizens? How could the city allow such open displays of criminal activity? How?

Anders stepped in front of me and cleared off a table. Light snoring notified me that we weren't alone. Glancing around, I took in a few cots that were currently occupied. I assumed these were some of Anders's patients. I gave myself a small moment to take in Anders's small clinic. There were herbs hanging from rafters or the walls, drying out. There were varying sizes of mortars on a shelf, with a few . . . pestles (how did I know that word?) close by. There were a few books, but not many and they looked worse for wear.

My feet took me to Anders's side. "So will you tell me what you plan on doing?"

"Dreams are how unmagicked people enter the Fade." He started, pulling down a mortar and pestle and whatever ingredients he needed. "But because these people are unaware and unmagicked, they are of little interest to spirits and demons. Usually." He pointed looked at me as he set to grinding up things. "But I think you've attracted a spirit, one that wishes to help you, for whatever reason. But to be sure, I need to speak with it."

"Okay. And I'm here because . . ."

"Because I do not know what I am looking for. I believe the spirit will be waiting for you in the Fade when you sleep and I will have Justice look for you in the Fade."

My head was spinning. "Wait, wait, wait. I'm lost." I didn't even understand what I didn't understand. I held my head as a headache started up. "So . . . a spirit has been talking to me?"

"I'm hoping, yes." He poured the crushed up ingredients into another cup.

"That's . . . reassuring." I said dryly. I folded my arms, trying to sort things out. "And if it's not a spirit?"

He stilled. "Then it's a demon and I will rid it for you." He poured a combination of liquids from three vials and used a stick to stir it.

"Okay. Thanks. I guess. By the way, who's Justice?"

"You'll meet him soon." I wasn't sure how I felt about all this mystery and his cryptic responses, but . . . if there was a chance to get back my memories . . . "Here."

Anders was handing me the bowl he had been mixing the ingredients in. I tentatively took the bowl and looked at its contents. Blagh. The color was . . . disturbing. "What's this for?"

"This is a sleeping draught, modified for our purposes." He gave me a soft smile. "It tastes horrible, but there's little I can do about that."

"So, what? I drink this and . . . ?"

"Drink only a mouthful. I will drink it also and Justice will find you in the Fade. Hopefully, your helpful spirit won't be far off."

I swirled the contents of the bowl, feeling incredibly nervous about all of this. "There aren't any side-effects?"

"You'll probably have a headache and a vicious appetite when you wake up, but nothing besides that."

"What if someone comes in while we're passed out?"

"I locked the doors when I came in. They'd have to break through and the noise would wake us before they got in." He walked around and placed a hand on my shoulder. "If you don't want to do this, you don't have to. But it's the only method left to us. The contents will allow me to trace you in the Fade."

"If I'm dreaming . . . how will I know if it's you?" I sighed. "What I know of dreams aren't anything like how you describe them. I'm not aware that I'm dreaming until I'm awake. How is anything supposed to happen when I'm not aware of anything?"

"No. You're correct. Only mages or people who have trained themselves are able to be aware of the Fade part of a dream. This potion will help matters."

I glared at the concoction. Bracing myself, I tossed a mouthful of the contents just as Anders added, "Just warn me before you—Ah!"

As soon as the liquid touched my tongue, my knees buckled and—


	13. Chapter 13: One Step Forward, Two Back

**_HEADS UP:_** _This chapter has some swearing (like, the bad kind . . . wow, does that even make sense? Lol) Whatever, you've been warned._

 _Ugh, this one was hard to write, mostly because I wanted to do the Fade justice (haha, get it? *cricket* Ahem, ignore me). I always imagined that the Fade was always shifting and disorienting so I hope I portrayed that alright._

 _Also, yes. Yes, I love cliff hangers, yes I do. Haha. Or maybe I'm just horrible at figuring out where I should cut off from the next chapter *shrug* Take your pick._

 _Responses and Q &A:_

 ** _Swirling Epiphany_** _—_ _You make total sense, and thank you. I wanted there to not be a complete lack of sense, so hopefully her sparks of memories play out well and make her amnesia more believable._

 ** _great northern one_** _—_ _I wonder . . . ? hahaha, just so you know, I had her appearance planned before even reading you comment. But I guess I should let it be known that not ALL companions will get as important a role as some others. Some will just be more of acquaintances than friends to Emma and therefore won't play as important a role—they may appear but not play a major role/say much._

 ** _DarkDust27_** _—_ _Aw, I'm glad you like her. I worry about whether or not she's likeable/relatable._

 _As always, Dragon Age, its world and its characters belong to Bioware. I simply own this story line, Emma, and any other crazy OCs._

 _Enjoy_

 _~Inkraven_

* * *

 **Chapter 13: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back**

"Ow. My head . . ." I sat up, gripping my head as it throbbed to some imaginary beat.

Rubbing my temple with one hand, I looked around. I was laying down in on of Anders's cots. Ugh. So it didn't work? I was in the clinic still, but . . . wait. No. it was that layered image. The first was the clinic with all its dirt and items and drying herbs. But just underneath it, I saw the land of green skies.

Slowly getting to my feet, I wasn't at all certain of what I was supposed to make of all this. I stumbled forward a bit as I investigated. The patients were still occupying the cots from before, but they had a strange look to them, something I couldn't put my finger on.

"Anders?" I called. My voice had a weird quality, sounding tiny but also roaring.

"I'm here."

"Thank God, I—" When I turned, I hesitated. He looked . . . off. Not right. But . . . from what I could tell, everything was weird in the Fade, if that was truly where I went when I dreamed. His image was layered too, but my eyes were having a hard time latching onto the bottom layer. "You look . . . weird."

For a split second, I clearly saw what was underneath, but it was so startling, I had no idea what it was. "Do I? The Fade can make common things or familiar people appear distorted."

Distorted wasn't the word I would use. My headache was taking on a new tone, a new ache I had no words to describe. I clutched my hand between my hands, flinching.

"Are you alright?" Anders asked, concerned.

"My head . . . it hurts." I squinted as I looked at him. If I could just . . .

"Yes. You fell and before I could catch you, you hit your head. I apologize." Oh. Oh, was that way my head hurt so bad? And what the hell, why was I always hitting my head? Did the universe just want me irreparably brain damaged? Damn.

"Are we . . . are we going to look for that spirit?"

Anders's face pulled into a frown. "It was a demon. I got rid it for you. Do you not remember? You were there."

I pulled up, confused and disappointed, my pain momentarily forgotten. "I was?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid it was trying to trick you."

My heart started clenching and for a split second, I could have sworn Anders's mouth had curled into a smile. But that couldn't be right . . . "Then . . . what now? Anders, that was the last hope I had of . . ."

I wanted to cry so bad. No! No, no, no! I had been so sure that this was supposed to happen, that we were going to find something to help me, one way or another.

"I'm afraid I am aware of no further options. You will simply have to learn to cope with the fact that you'll always be a stranger here."

My head whipped up to face him, my eyes burning with suppressed tears. "W-what?"

He came to me and squatted before me. "Come now, you think you'll ever be accepted here? You're clumsy, useless. Like a child, a burden. You didn't even know how to peel a potato!"

"H-how did you know about . . . Anders why are you saying this?" I was so bewildered and hurt—he wasn't saying anything I hadn't thought of before, but hearing from an outside source made it cut that much deeper. Something was . . . wrong. Something was off. If I could just figure out what . . .

He waved his hand, as if dismissing me. "It's obvious. What's more, your stupidity got Barden killed and you had to be saved like some damsel in distress. Pathetic."

Each word crushed me more and more, but something else inside me started up, boiling in my gut that flowed into my veins. Anger, my familiar friend. I latched onto that and tried even harder to look at his bottom layer.

With a snarl, my eyes latched onto it with a vehemence and it was almost like . . . I _tore_ it to the surface. In my anger, I didn't have time to scream in terror as I recognized the face before me.

"I _knew_ you weren't Anders."

Despair hissed and flung itself away from me. "Impossible!" It screeched. "My illusion was flawless!"

I straightened myself, grasping onto my anger even tighter, my headache receding significantly. I noticed that the clinic layer had vanished the moment I had clung to Despair's image. "Apparently, I make impossible, possible, asshat."

"Impossible, impossible!" A weird, blue glow started up in its hand and the next thing I knew, a sort of icy, crystal like beam was launched my way. I flinched, but again, felt nothing. I guess it was using magic because the beam just . . . disappeared as soon as it touched my skin. It wailed, a sound that made me physically sick.

"Emma!"

I turned to find a flaming figure headed my way. Scowling, I raised my hand. "Stop! I've had enough of you creatures!"

"It is us, Emma. It took us a while, but we found you. And in good time."

The aflame person walked past me and faced Despair. I watched the interaction cautiously. Whoever this 'us' was, was confident, I'd give it that.

Despair whirled on the figure, seething and spitting. "You have no dominion here, Vengeance!"

"We are Justice! Begone, demon!" Despair wailed as flames ignited all over its body before it disappeared completely.

Okay. Don't piss off this Vengeance . . . Justice dude. Wait.

"You're Justice? Um, Anders's acquaintance?" I ventured cautiously.

Vengeance or Justice or whatever he was called, turned to face me. "We are Justice, but we are also Anders."

"Excuse me?"

"A host possession that went awry, we have become one."

Host-possession . . . holy shit! "You're a demon!"

His entire body flared. "We are no demon, mortal!"

"Only a demon would say that!"

"In what way would you have us prove ourselves?"

Honestly? I drew a blank. This was all too insane and confusing. I threw up my hands. "Okay, fine. You're not a demon . . . but you're also not human. Or . . . only half? No! Don't explain! I can't handle much more! Just . . . you can help me, right?"

"We can try." His flames quieted significantly and then that layering thing happened again. An image of Anders covered him, but my headache started up again.

"Ugh! Don't!"

"Don't what?"

I waved my hand vaguely at him. "That. Do that . . . layering thing."

"Layering . . . thing?" He sounded equal part curious, frustrated, and confused.

"Yeah. Despair did it too. You try to look like something, but you're another thing under it. It gives me a headache."

There was a momentary silence before the Anders image dissipated and Justice whispered, "Fascinating. Illusions do not have an effect on you either. We wonder . . . does that mean all indirect magic fails to work on you?"

"Don't know, don't care. I'm currently only interested in getting my memories back. Will you help, or not?" I asked impatiently.

"You are a willful mortal, almost disrespectful, but yes. Anders wishes for us to help, so we shall. Let us find this . . . helpful spirit and hope it is just that. Come. We do not have much time."

* * *

It had been a long, grueling day. Fenris was glad to be done with the herb gathering mission that Hawke had chosen him to come along on. Ahead, the blood mage and Hawke, along with his mabari, led the way. He remembered how Hawke had wrangled him into coming and he wanted to roll his eyes. The elf's skills had hardly been needed and that infernal, deceptive blood mage had grated on his nerves—Hawke had attempted to recruit Anders, the one with more knowledge concerning healing herbs, but the mage had been indisposed. With all the amused looks cast his way from Hawke, he had deduced the mage was simply tormenting him, or, as the man liked to put it, "desensitizing" him to mages. As if he could do anything but look at mages with contempt.

However . . .

All through the ordeal, he couldn't help but replay the image of that girl, Emma, and the abomination holding some conversation in private. He didn't trust Emma and he most certainly did not trust the mage. He'd already given in to a demon—how much more would it take for the abomination to turn on them all? Maybe that was what had happened. Though he had found no evidence to support this theory, he was sure the girl was a spy or some servant of his former master. Maybe Anders knew this and was taking the step to get rid of the elf.

"You know, you're face will get stuck if you keep doing that." Hawke prodded his side, staring up at him in amusement. "Though, I must say, your scowl is in particular form today. What are you thinking about?"

Should he tell Hawke? The mage had proven he was at least due a modicum of trust. "That girl." He rumbled.

"Emma?" Though he attempted to keep up the light air, there was a tense quality there. Did he suspect as Fenris did? Heartened by this, Fenris continued on.

"Yes. She and that healer spoke of something last night and I believe it is of nothing good. They must be up to something."

Hawke casted him an exasperated look.

"Emma? Who is this Emma? Have I met her? You humans all look alike—oh! Not to say you don't have noteworthy qualities, or aren't unique—I'll shut up now." Merrill mumbled, blushing.

Hawke smiled warmly at the little blood mage, but it didn't escape Fenris's notice that there was a tightness to it or to the creases around his eyes. At least the apostate disapproved of the elf's choice to practice blood magic. A saving grace, if Fenris ever saw one.

"No. You have not met her, not yet. She's a bit lost and we've been helping her out a bit."

"Oh. You're a good person, Hawke." Merrill beamed at him.

"Not too good, hopefully. I have a reputation to keep." Hawke stated in mock arrogance. He stopped and turned on the naïve elf. "Here. Do me a favor and hand these to our friend. I want to talk with Fenris in private."

Merrill looked wide-eyed at Hawke, but nodded, glancing at Fenris, flinching at his scowl, and scurrying off. That one was not to be trusted. No mage was, but that one in particular . . .

"Look, Fenris. What is this all about?"

Fenris's piercing eyes slid back to a tired look Hawke. "I do not trust her."

"Maker's hairy balls, you can be tiring." Looking him in the eye, Hawke said, "What has she done to make you not trust her?"

Fenris audibly snapped his jaw closed, glaring. He had nothing but the gut knowledge that she wasn't some simple girl who suffered from memory loss. She was an itch under his skin that he yearned to tear out.

"Exactly." Hawke said triumphantly as Fenris said nothing. "You don't have to be friends, Fenris, but please, play nice when she is around. I didn't miss how you two butted heads last night. What did you say to make her so fired up?"

Fenris shrugged. "Her and the abomination's closeness was . . . disturbing. I merely commented on it."

Hawke snorted. "I'm sure you did, with your usual tact—like a sledgehammer." Hawke sighed wistfully. He had hoped the two would . . . but maybe Merrill's naivety and optimism had rubbed off on him. Mouth in a grim line and with a hard tone, Hawke said, "Fenris, you know me, or I'd like to think you do, what with our three years together. You know if she presented a threat to my family or allies, Bruiser would have alerted me . . ." He petted the massive dog's head, "And I would have disposed of her."

This seemed to mollify the giant elf. Hawke had long ago noted that the elf responded to more primal declarations and actions. Before he could comment further, someone scurrying towards them had him turning his head in interest.

"Messere Hawke!" Eva shouted, waving her hand.

"Serah Eva." Hawke grinned and bowed his head politely. "What can I do for you this fine afternoon?" Eva was about to say something when she noticed Fenris. Her mouth popped open a bit in awe as she took him in. "Ah. This is a friend of mine. Fenris, this is Serah Eva, caretaker of Serah Emma. Serah Eva, this is Fenris. Careful, he may bite."

Fenris glared at the man who just shot him an amused look.

Eva shook herself and pinned Hawke with a look that immediately had him concerned. "I'm serry, but I dun have the time fer niceties. Have yah seen Emma? She never made it ta the tavern and I can't find'a trace of her." She was wringing her hands in obvious worry, biting her lower lip.

"I have not. We only just returned from a completing a task outside the city." Hawke folded his arms. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"This morn!" Eva wailed. "She said that Donovan needed her fer somethin' and I thought nothin' of it, until I decided to check in on her and Donovan told me she never came."

Hawke placed a reassuring hand on the near hysterical woman's shoulder. "Calm down."

Eva immediately glowered, knocking his hand off. "Ya dun tell me ta 'calm down'! She dun know this city! She's easy prey fer the shady lot here. What if the men from that night had friends and got ta her?"

Hawke's brow furrowed, his hand clenching by his side. "You think this is what happened?"

"I dun know!"

"Alright. Please, collect yourself. We'll help look for her. Won't we, Fenris?"

The elf had remained quiet the whole time, his own mind racing. Had the girl finally played her hand? But what could it possibly be? So far, he hadn't sniffed out any hint of Danarius or his minions lurking about, but the fact that she had just disappeared was worrisome. Better to have your enemies within eyesight. Giving up on a response from the elf, Hawke turned back to Eva. "Do you have something with which would carry her scent? Bruiser can track her."

Bruiser gave an affirmative bark.

"Yes! Quickly, this way."

* * *

How long had we been walking? It felt like days, it really did. The sky had even darkened and lighten in mock shifting of time that only left me incredibly disoriented. I had tried making sense of where I was placing my feet as we followed the mind-boggling land, but it only got me even more confused and sick to the stomach, so I didn't think about it. Strangely, not thinking about it made everything a lot easier—breathing, thinking, walking.

"Where is this spirit!" I huffed.

"Spirits are predictable, when their nature is ascertained. Since we do not know what it is, we cannot so easily find or summon it. We are hoping it will sense your presence however it has before and find you once more."

"Fantastic plan!" I grumbled. But then I had an epiphany. "Hey . . . what if . . . what if the spirit gave me a way to find it? What if it gave me its name?"

Justice stilled, then I had a feeling he was amused. "Clever. Hope. The spirit we seek, it is a spirit of Hope." He was still, looking around as if expecting to see the spirit right then and there. I looked around too, but nothing happened. "Maybe we are wrong." Justice murmured.

"Or maybe . . . it's me." I thought aloud. "What if _I'm_ the one who needs to hope. Maybe my hope is what draws it?"

Kind of a stupid thought, placing a lot of importance on me. But it was worth a shot. I closed my eyes and thought of all the good things that had happened so far. Maraas, Eva, Donovan and Corrf. Hawke and Varric and playing Wicked Grace. That moment when I thought I would make it, that I'd be okay.

"At last." A whisper of a voice breathed.

I opened my eyes and blinked at what I saw. What a radiant spirit. It glittered, like a flawless diamond under a concentrated light and took the form of a woman.

"Hope?" I ventured.

"Yes." I couldn't be sure, but I think she smiled. "It has been so long since a person has felt such genuine Hope. I had thought not to return to this city for a time yet."

"You're beautiful."

"Because Hope is a beautiful thing that leads to beautiful and powerful happenings. But there is not much time. I am here to help, and so I shall. You seek your memories."

"Yes! How can I get them back?"

"The Fade is a complicated place. Memories are an integral part of the Fade—they are a part of its design, one of the threads from which it is woven."

"So . . ." I started connecting the dots as Justice watched on carefully. But my gut told me I could trust this spirit named Hope and that she wasn't being deceiving. "My memories can be found here?"

Was it really so simple? Really? After everything? I couldn't decide if I wanted to punch something or laugh.

"Yes. But you must understand. Memories are coveted here and attract the attention of many—some of very vile natures. That being said, I know where your memories lie. However," Her head turned to Justice, "For what purpose, I do not know, but Nightmare has claimed a part of it."

"Nightmare? Why would he . . ." Justice's flames flared in what I assumed was alarm going by his tone of voice. Oookay. So anything that unnerved Justice, a being that I thought was powerful, was not to be taken lightly.

"Nightmare feeds off mortals' most primal fears," Hope explained, sensing my confusion and anxiety, "He sometimes steals memories that mortals cannot bear. He has been seen as a good entity in this way, but it is not true. He is a High Demon and eons of terror has made him nigh indestructible. In any case, there is a memory you have lost that is filled with the darkness he craves and he will not give it up easily."

I shivered and wondered what the hell could have happened to me that had attracted that creature's attention. If it was that bad, he could have it for all I cared.

"Follow my path." The road beneath our feet lit with the same glittering light as the spirit projected. "You must be swift. Despair demons will not let my light shine for long and I do not know how long your memories will remain free."

"Thank you." I said sincerely.

"Emma, you were loved dearly."

"Wha—were?"

But in a blink the spirit was gone. Just . . . gone.

"Come. We must be swift." Justice laid a hand on my shoulder and then started off at a run. Seriously? I was so freaking exhausted! But . . . my memories were at my fingertips. I found my feet running before I was even consciously aware. With a much more brutal pace, we followed the road. A strange, sing-songy phrase popped into my head: "Follow the yellow-brick road."

We eventually found ourselves inside a gorge . . .? All around us walls of black, glistening rock jutted and stabbed the sky. But the rock was . . . off. It shimmered here and there and sometimes I saw movement but every time I turned to look, I just saw rock. Unnerved, I stuck close to Justice who had slowed down to carefully place his feet. Other pathways led up or further down into what looked like black as night pits. The terrain grew more and more terrifying, especially as Hope's light began to fade. And was it just me or was it getting harder and harder to breathe, to walk, to think?

"Why . . . why does it feel so _heavy_?" I gasped.

"We are close to Nightmare's domain. We _must_ be careful."

As we skirted around another pit where I was hearing some hair-raising noises, I asked, "Just, you know, out of curiosity, what happens if you die in a dream?"

I had a vague memory of someone telling me that if you died in a dream, you died in real life. I gulped, feeling a bit queasy now.

"Depends on how one dies. Usually, you wake up. But . . ."

What the hell! Don't leave it like that! I wanted to berate Justice, when movement caught my eye. No way. No no no. _Detaching_ from the wall were . . . creatures with a vaguely spider-esque look to them, all pitch black with that hint of movement inside. Yuck!

"J-Justice!"

"We see them. Stay close to our side." Justice extended his hand and a flaming staff grew from his hand. He gripped it and I watched as flames went and encased the closest creatures. They screeched and hissed an ungodly noise as they withered. Next, Justice arced his staff and a half circle cut the creatures off from us. They shrieked and hissed as they attempted to pass the fire wall before being forced back.

"What the fuck are those things!"

"Fearlings. Do not let them bite you or you will suffer your worst fears until your heart bursts with terror."

I threw up my hands. "What is wrong with this place?" I hollered. "I can't imagine why demons are so keen on escaping—I mean, it's just such a cheery place!"

Ignoring my ranting, Justice let his staff fade out. "This way. The path is almost gone."

Grumbling and trying to fend of my fear, I took off with Justice. We came to . . . a swamp? Well, it was kind of like a swamp. But, once again, it was creepy as hell. Flames with absolutely no source hung in midair. There was a mirror here and there, but before my curiosity got my feet heading towards them, Justice warned, "Do not look into the mirrors, or—"

"Or I'll die or something equally as horrifying. Got it."

I returned to Justice's side, contrite. A flash of movement and a slightly pulsing glow had me turning, though. It was . . . an outline of a person? Just the upper torso, hanging in the air. The path, which was hard to discern in the muddy water, led out of the water and to it.

"Uh, Justice?"

Justice turned. "There it is. Your memories. Go to it and touch it."

I gaped at him. "Just like that? No warnings? I'm not going to die if I touch it wrong or something?" I stared at him suspiciously. "Come on, this sounds too easy."

I could _feel_ his glare as he sighed. "Mortals are so vexing. Yes, one must always be careful in the Fade, but time is not with us. Go, before unwanted guests arrive."

I shivered, thinking about those spider things. "Right."

I trudged through the water, my eyes fixed on the slowly rotating, glowing body. I was getting excited now. Finally! It was on a little ledge, so I had to pull myself up and out of the water to reach it. As I dropped onto dry ground, I saw movement, then heard Justice shout, "Emma!"

I didn't have time to react or anything as a Fearling gored my side. I screamed as pain consumed me. The Fearling hissed and was coming back for another bite when it exploded and Justice was by my side. He was trying to talk to me, but I was screaming so loud, I couldn't hear him. But no. No, it wasn't Justice beside me.

"M-monster!" I screamed, flailing my limbs, trying to get the grotesque thing away from me. Then it just vanished and I screamed anew as I had no idea where it was, if it'd come back, if it'd kill me. I felt something on my hand. Looking, I screamed yet louder as I saw something moving under my skin, scuttling, scurrying up my arm. I clawed at my arm, desperate to get whatever it was _out_. I thrashed about and watched in horror as the sky shifted and _moved_ , a giant creature of which I had no words to describe looked down on me.

 _"_ _So you're the one."_ That voice! Like nails on the chalkboard, like it was molded from pain and terror itself. I scooted back, but how could I get distance from the sky? _"You thought to steal from me."_

As I thrashed on the ground, tearing into my skin, my vision turning into pinpricks as my heart beat wildly against my chest to get out, I saw a light. My memories. Frustration and anger broke through my fog of terror and I clung to it like a drowning man clings to a lifeline. Like hell I was going to die without knowing who I am! I struggled to reach it, reaching for it. I strained, just out of reach. I just had to touch it!

I just needed to touch it!

* * *

Fenris had the healer by the throat. "What is the meaning of this, abomination!" He snarled.

Justice flared to the front, the mage's eyes glowing blue. "Unhand us!"

Hawke was trying to hold down Emma as she thrashed on her cot as Eva sobbed and tried to help. "Fenris! We'll deal with him later! I need help with Emma and Anders is the one who knows what to do!"

Disgusted, Fenris threw the mage toward the commotion, the other patients quickly exiting. With a sharp gaze, Fenris took in the scene—Hawke and the Eva woman were attempting to still Emma who screamed and flailed, but remained unconscious. The mabari, Bruiser, was whining by the door. What was going on?

"What the hell is going on?" Hawke demanded.

"We were attempting to retrieve her memories from the Fade."

Hawke's head whipped to glare at the healer. " _What?_ Do you want to run that by me again? Why in the Maker's name would you take her there? She is unfit for such a place, untrained and untried!"

Justice flared before Anders controlled himself. "I know! A spirit was helping her, so I thought—"

" _What!?_ " Hawke yelled. "No. Never mind. Why is she still unconscious? Why is she like this?"

"A Fearling bit her."

"Shit! What can we do?"

Fenris was seething, but noted how the healer's hands were shaking as he said with a quivering voice, "I know of nothing."

"She'll die?" Eva choked out.

Emma throat was so raw from screaming, spittle mixed with blood was flying from her mouth. Her arms were scratched and bleeding, her own doing, before Hawke had restrained her. Fenris had never felt so . . . useless, not since he had been a slave and he hated the feeling. Hawke turned to the girl and one had grabbed her chin.

"Emma Fletcher! You are much too stubborn to let fear be the death of you!"

They all jumped back as Emma suddenly shot up, shouting, "Fuck that!"

Utter silence filled the room as everyone stared in awe at her. She was huffing and puffing, as if she had fought some great battle, sweating pouring down her red face in rivulets. After a few moments of stunned silence, Eva moved forward and grabbed Emma's hand.

"Emma?"

Emma turned to look at Eva with a blank expression. Then, in a cracking voice, "Who the hell are you?"


	14. Chapter 14: Memories and Priorities

**_Okay, bad news_** _. I broke my thumb so typing is a pain in the BUTT. I had this chapter written before that, so all I had to do was edit it and even that was a hassle (I had to 'hen-peck' at the keyboard), so BEWARE: updates will more than likely take longer than usual. Sorry._

 _That's pretty much all. I'm glad so many of you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one as well._

 _By the way, I'm curious—how old do you think Eva is? Emma? I never stated it but I'm curious what age both give off to you guys._

 _There weren't really comments or questions to respond too, but I ALWAYS appreciate reviews—they give me HUGE motivation to write better and post sooner._

 **~Inkraven.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Memories and Priorities**

She was like a wild, trapped animal—the most dangerous kind. Hawke took in her rigid posture and the way her eyes slid from person to person in distrust.

"Where the hell am I? I swear to God, if this is because of Harrison . . ."

"Do you . . . not remember us?" Hawke said carefully.

Her eyes jerked to his and she opened her mouth, as if to object to something, when she furrowed her brow and pursed her mouth. "You're . . . Hawke."

Somewhat heartened by this, Hawke gestured to Eva. "And her?"

"Eva." She said without hesitation, then she blinked. "And that's Anders and that's Fenris. Why do I—would you stop touching me?" She barked at Anders who was attempting to check her over.

Anders froze, then slowly withdrew. "I'm a healer. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Healer? You mean doctor? And why wouldn't I be . . . ah, damnit." She started biting her thumbnail. "I was doing so good, too."

Anders locked eyes with Hawke, both growing more and more concerned.

"Emma," Emma stopped worrying at her nail and turned to look at Eva, alert. "Do yah not remember how yah got here? Where yah are? Who _we_ are?"

Emma flinched then rubbed her temples as if her head ached. "Just . . . gimme a moment. Sometimes I get a bit mixed up after . . ."

Anders stood and came to Hawke's side, both men watching the scene before them with intensity. "How is she alive?"

Anders seemed completely perplexed. "I haven't the foggiest. By all accounts, she should be dead."

"She seems to defy logic. A real mystery." Hawke folded his arms against his chest, thinking. "And why does she not remember us now?"

"Sometimes the recalling of lost memories can make a person temporarily forget recent happenings. She will eventually remember us and what has occurred."

"I'm in . . . Kirkwall. A city? But I've never . . . and you're a mage, which isn't possible." She was looking at Hawke. "Magic isn't real. Or at least . . . it wasn't, but I've seen it and it doesn't work on me, right? Oh! It's coming back to me now."

Ander's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, that was quicker than usual."

Hawke chuckled. "There is nothing usual about this girl."

"What the hell! I got bit by that Fear-thingy!" Emma jerked as her hands flew to her side. When she found herself whole, she said, "That's right. That happened in my dream. I mean, in the Fade." She looked at Anders. "You said a bite from a Fearling kills. Why am I not dead?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Anders replied.

"Huh." Her eyes went to Fenris, then she snorted a laugh. "You know what I thought when I saw you for what I thought was the first time? I thought, 'what crawled up his butt and died?'" She guffawed as Fenris's once surprised expression turned sour. "Dude, you have got to stop scowling."

Eva leaned in. "Do you remember from where you hail? Do you know who you are now?"

Emma grew still at that, looking to the side, seeing something no one else in that room could see. "Kind of. I don't know how to explain it, though, without sounding crazy to you guys."

And I really didn't. I could hardly believe it myself, but the only explanation was that I no longer was on Earth. I almost rejected the thought. It just wasn't possible, but what other explanation was there? And that brought on slew of other fear inducing realizations and questions.

"Trust me when I say I've heard some pretty crazy things." Hawke spoke up. "I doubt what you have to say will top those."

"I doubt it." I mumbled. I sighed. "Look, can I just . . . I don't know, soak in my memories for a while? I'd just like to get my bearings a little better before I go spouting whatever comes to mind."

"Of course. Let's head back home, yeah?" Eva helped me to my feet and steadied me as I wobbled a moment.

"Wait a moment—" Anders began, but was cut off my Eva's intense stare.

"I'm fine, Anders." I reassured. "My head hurts a little, but other than that, I'm just tired. I just need some rest."

Anders hesitated, but nodded. Thank God—I didn't know if I could handle an argument right now. I felt too raw with my emotions too close to the surface—like an exposed nerve. I didn't want to accidentally go off on anyone. I was having a difficult enough time reconciling what I knew of my world and this one, what was happening around me and what could happen. There was a lot that was still unknown and it was terrifying. I needed a moment to collect myself.

"Fenris, please escort them."

I froze by the door. God, not him. "We're fine."

"I will not chance your safety in the city's underbelly."

Fenris seemed just as thrilled. "Then you go."

"I must speak with Anders. Bruiser will be heading out with you too." The mabari gave a soft 'wuff', coming to the my and Eva's side. Fenris snarled, but said little else as he pushed passed us and started leading the way without even a glance back at us to make sure we were following.

"That young elf is in sore need of a whoopin'." Eva growled.

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me as I imagined Eva spanking the surly elf. Eva smiled and we followed behind Fenris as Bruiser took up the rear. To be honest, I felt quite safe between the two. As we made our way home, my mind broke free of its restraints and began racing. I took in my surroundings with a new light and even more disbelief.

By all accounts, I was in a kind of medieval era world—my eyes cut to Fenris—with elves and dwarves and magic and all manner of creatures. None of this was possible. None of it. And yet here I was, experiencing it not through a book, but in real life. I briefly wondered if I had gone insane and was no longer in touch with reality. But I dismissed the thought. If I was insane, I wouldn't be questioning my sanity. I would think all of this was normal. Right?

I remembered immersing myself in written worlds of fantasy, ones with elves in particular. It was J R. R. Tolkein's fault—ever since reading his stuff, I was obsessed with elves and their culture and read whatever book I could get my hands on about them. But as far as I remembered, none of the elves in those literatures were even close to the way elves were oppressed here. What went wrong?

"Here, boy." Eva called out.

Fenris stiffened, but stopped. "Do not call me by such a degrading moniker."

"They're mah words and I'll say what I want. Boy." Eva raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to say something, and I bit back a smile. Fenris seemed a peculiar mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

Finally, he bit out, "You are at your home and so my job is done."

As he began storming away, Bruiser on his heels, I turned around and shouted, "Fenris!" He stopped short and looked at me, as if ready to give battle. I smiled the best I could. "Thank you. I know you didn't want to, but thank you anyway."

That put an incredibly perplexed look on his face. Turning back around and with less anger to his step, he disappeared among the houses.

Eva huffed. "That boy is trouble. Got it written all over him." She helped me into the house and then into a sitting position on my bed. "I'll get something fer ya to eat and drink."

"I'm not really hungry, actually."

Eva paused, then sat down next to me. "I know yah said yah wanted to get yer bearin's afer talkin' about things, but . . . would yah like to talk about it?"

I did. I really, really did. But how do you explain to a person you're from another world? How do you explain that none of this should be possible and yet, it was? I wasn't even sure Eva was equipped to understand concepts like other worlds or planets or dimensions or whatever the hell this place was. Not that I thought she was dumb, but if this was a true medieval-like place, teaching was limited to upper-class citizens who could afford such luxury. I picked at my clothing for a bit, trying to figure things out, how to word things so I didn't sound quite so crazy.

"My . . . country is . . . really, really far away." I said slowly.

"Oh? And what country are ya from then?" She asked curiously.

"It's called Earth."

"Never heard'a it. Do ya know how to get back?"

"No." I answered honestly.

"Well, do yah know how ya got here? Did ya get tossed over at sea?"

That was actually something I had no idea about. It was a blank space in my memories, as if it had been cut out and—Nightmare. That must be the part that he had taken from me. But why that? What about how I got here would be so horrifying? "I don't know. I guess I'm . . . I guess I'm stuck here until I figure that out."

"But don't'ch'ya have a family waitin' fer yah?" Eva's voice was filled with worry.

Memories of my family popped into my head. I had a dad, mom, little sister, and big brother. I loved then all, but I had a strained relationship with them. Memories of what I had done and who I used to be almost swept me away and I forced back my tears in vain. They would most definitely be worried, waiting for me.

"Oh, Emma. I didn't mean ta—"

"No. I used to not be such a good person. I used to disappear on them all the time." I shrugged helplessly. But this time, I had no idea when I'd get back. My heart ached and clenched—we had been getting better, they had started to trust me again.

"But surely they're lookin', yeah?"

"Yeah . . ." But unless they figured out that I was no longer on Earth and then figure out how to come get me or I figured out how to go to them, I was stuck. I could see it now. Mom crying at the dinner table and dad pacing close by. My brother would be out, looking for me, cursing my name, while my little sister tried to comfort mom.

"Well then, we just gotta keep our eyes open, yeah? We'll need ta start visitin' the docks ev'ry day now—hopefully we haven't missed nuthin' yet."

I gave her a watery smile, but I didn't try and correct her.

"Now then, let's talk about somethin' not so stressful, shall we?" Eva smiled and patted my folded hands. "So are ya a noble?"

I almost laughed. I guess I was, kind of, by the standards here. But how to explain? "Not really. I mean, where I come from, they don't really have such a rigid class system. People are given basic rights, like . . ." I paused, then said, "Like a right to clean water, to education, to happiness."

Eva looked nonplussed. "This Earth place sounds unbelievable. Yah sure yah ain't gettin' it wrong?"

I laughed. "No. It's true."

"Sounds like paradise."

"I guess . . . in a way, it is. I mean, we mostly squabble over petty stuff now, but I guess that tells you things like when we're going to eat next or if we'll survive another day aren't really an issue anymore. I mean, we have our own problems, we're not perfect."

"Yah said people got rights? Yah mean _everyone_ everyone?"

She meant elves, most likely, but I saw mages and Qunari as well. "Everyone. Doesn't matter who you are, where you've come from, or what you are. You breathe, you think, you have rights. And people get punished when they try and take away those rights." I was getting kind of fired up now, frustrated by all the wrongness I had seen here. But how much could I do in a place where such beliefs and behaviors were ingrained for centuries?

"Huh. One day, I'd like to visit your lands. Now, tell me about _yourself_." Eva got comfortable and I wiped away errant tears as I dove in. My favorite color was green—because it represented life (and death, if you thought about it). I loved painting, it was the only way I knew how to express myself because I had never been very good with words. I loved to read and this had Eva perking up.

"Yer learned? Yah can read and write King's Script?"

"Yes. Well, I mean, I've gone to school, but what I can read and write is called English."

"Then how is it that you can speak the King's Tongue?"

So that's what her language was called? It wasn't . . . English? Weird. Why _could_ I understand her and vice versa and yet I couldn't read nor write this King's Script? I shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe our language is the same, but called something different? And maybe our writing system evolved differently?"

Eva eyed me. "Yer a noble alright. Lookit all those fancy words." She waved her hand as if demonstrating the fanciness of said words. Then she broke into a grin. "This is all so interestin'. Go on."

I wonder if she knew how talking to her about all my memories was incredibly therapeutic for me and helped me sort all of it out. I didn't tell her everything, however. I found that with the return of my memories, I had secrets I didn't want anyone to know. Before I had been an open book waiting to be read and now I was a diary written in code. I just . . . didn't want her to think badly of me or to throw pity my way. I had gotten enough of both for five lifetimes.

* * *

I just stared at the rafters as Eva slept on. After talking for hours, Eva had made us dinner—something much more substantial than the boiled potato we'd had the first few nights I had been here. Still, it was meager compared to what we had eaten at Hawke's manor.

As the night wore on, I couldn't stop my mind from racing.

How had I gotten here? Was there a way back? There had to be, but how in the world would I figure out how to get back? And I had to get back. I had missed my forgotten family before, but now that I had faces and names, I missed them that much more to the point of being in pain. I hoped mom and dad didn't think the worst and I hoped that they didn't think it was just the usual. To be honest, I wasn't sure which was worse. My number one priority was finding a way back.

Thinking about my family, I couldn't help but tear up and silently cry. I missed Joseph, my older brother, and Cassie, my little sister, and my mom and dad. I missed the annoying way Joseph used to ruffle my hair—he hadn't done that in a long time, not since we'd have our falling out, but I promise that if I saw him again, I'd hug him and never let go and let him ruffle my hair all he wanted; there was Cassie with her heart on her sleeve, the way she'd stomp her foot when she got angry or scrunch her nose and stick out her tongue when she was concentrating; Mom, who sucked at cooking and usually ordered takeout instead and turned into a mama bear whenever her kids were threatened; and Dad, who worked hard all day at a job he hated, coming home exhausted. Some days he didn't eat at all, just went straight to bed, but he always made sure to ask us how our day was. When we were little, Dad used to give us 1, 2, 3 bear hugs and teach each one of us how to stand up for ourselves. Granted, my current relationship with my family was strained at best but . . .

God, I missed them all so much.

When I left here, I wondered if I'd miss the people I'd met here as much as I missed my family now.

My eyes rested on Eva. I'd miss her the most, without a doubt, but I'd also miss Donovan and Corff and Hawke. But, though it sounded callous, this would all seem like a dream and I'd forget them eventually. It's what time did. And it was exactly that reason that I had to find a way back as fast as possible—I didn't want to forget my family or for them to forget me. So there was that.

The next thing my mind settled on was the fact that if I wanted to see my family again, I needed to stay alive. I replayed what happened when Beardo and his men had assaulted me, to those violent moments I'd witness on the street on the way to work, and that moment as I waited for Anders—if I hadn't bared that knife and if they hadn't been so off their rocker drunk, I doubt it would have gone so smoothly.

I had been incredibly lucky so far, but I had learned long ago that luck sometimes blinked or just ran out completely.

So I needed to figure out how to protect myself. My mind went to the dagger. I needed to learn how to use it. I knew a lot about weapons because, I don't know, I guess hand to hand combat always fascinated me. It seemed more personal, scarier than shooting a gun—you had to stare your opponent in the eye and understand that one of you was going to die and that if you won, that intelligence in those eyes would be gone forever. It made it so that taking a life wasn't as easy. Or so I had thought.

It didn't seem like that held any water here.

That said, I needed to learn to defend myself should anything happen. Fortunately for me, it was _just_ the physical stuff I had to worry about. Thank God magic didn't work on me for whatever reason. I had no idea how I'd handle that one.

I rolled to my side and laid my head on my arm. I needed someone to teach me how to handle myself. And I had a fairly good idea about who could do that.

Hopefully, he would also have an idea about how I could get back home.


	15. Author's Note: PLS READ

Hey! So it's been forever and a day, I know. I'm not dead, so there's the good news.

And HOLY CRAP!? How did this fanfic get so many followers/favorite? I never thought I'd get half of the number I currently have

That aside . . . I want to take the time to apologize for no updates to this story. Here's what happened.

I broke my thumb, then my job ended and I had to look for a new job which, in itself, is a full-time job. Then had a familial emergency and then I had to move out to college/college started and my workload has been insane.

Now here's the bad news:  
I was rereading this story and hit a snag. I have to go back and edit and revise what I have written in order for things to fall into place better (or at all). So I apologize, but this fanfic is currently under revision, which means there is going to be another wait for a chapter update.  
SO I STRONGLY suggest rereading every chapter when I load a new chapter here because I have a feeling there are going to be some minor (and major) plot points/elements that are going to change completely or minutely. Feel free to comment on any critiques you have or suggestions on what you think I need to edit/clarify/etc.


	16. An Apology to Readers

Hello.

It's been a long time. I apologize for that. My life went to hell in a hand basket really quickly (when it rains, it pours) and I've only just recently been able to get back on my feet.  
If you're still interested in this story and still waiting for updates, bless you for your patience and loyalty to the story.  
It will still be a little while yet before I can return to this story, revise and then update.

Again, I'm sorry for the LONG wait.


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